LYRICS  OF  THE  WEST 


BY 
ELVA  IRENE  McMILLAN 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW  YORK  LONDON 

27  WEST  TWENTY-THIRD   ST.  24   BEDFORD   ST.,   STRAND 

$tft  Jlmclurbotku  Press 
l899 


COPYRIGHT,  1899 

BY 

ELVA  IRENE  McMILLAN 
Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London 


Ube  Knickerbocker  press,  Hew  tforfc 


CONTENTS 


THE  LAND  WHERE  DREAMS  COME  TRUE  i 

FROM  OUT  THE  SWEETNESS  OF  THE  PAST  .        .        .  3 

LOVE'S  YEARNING         .        .        .        .                .        .  5 

I  WILL  BE  TRUE         .        .        .        .        .        .        .  7 

A  FADED  ROSE .  8 

I  LOVE  You 9 

To  LIVE 10 

SWEETEST  WORDS 12 

WHAT  ARE  THE  WILD  WAVES  SAYING  ?    .        .        .13 

WHEN  LOVE  SHALL  COME 15 

THE  CHILDREN'S  HOUR 17 

SAILING 20 

MY  TREASURE  Is  WITH  GOD 21 

MY  GIFTS 22 

FORGIVENESS 23 

To  LOVE 25 

SWEET  ROSES 26 

MARY  MAGDALENE 28 

FIRELIGHT  REVERIES 31 

MY  KANSAS  HOME 33 

WHEN  You  VISIT  ME  IN  DREAMS      ....  35 

THE  LITTLE  ONES 36 

To  THE  VIOLINIST .37 

iii 


IV  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

WHEN  SCHOOL  BEGINS 39 

MY  OFFERING 41 

THOU  HAST  A  HOPE 43 

OH,  THAT  WITH  THE  GENTLE  POETS          ...  45 

44  HE  DON'T  KNOW  ME" 47 

44  GIVE  ME  THINE  HEART" 50 

MY  YOUTH 51 

MEDITATION 52 

MY  ANSWER 53 

WHO  SAILS  WITH  ME? 54 

I  WILL  LISTEN 55 

THE  LOVE  OF  GOD 56 

WHEN  I  MEET  THEE 57 

WHILE  THE  BABY  SLEEPS 58 

IT  Is  SWEET  TO  LOVE 59 

THE  FUTURE 60 

LITTLE  GRACE 61 

WHEN  LOVE  Is  YOUNG  AND  LIFE  Is  FAIR        .        .  65 

MOTHERHOOD 67 

WHOM  ANGELS  CROWNED 68 

I    LOVE   TO    HEAR   You   WHISTLE   WHEN    You  'KE 

COMING 71 

NEARER  MY  GOD  TO  THEE 73 

WHY? 75 

DROP  A  TEAR  FOR  ME 77 

GONE  BEFORE 80 

BALLAD  OF  FAITH  AND  LOVE 82 

UNKIND  WORDS 84 

ROSE  OR  THORN 85 


CONTENTS.  V 

PAGE 

THE  CHILD  AMONG  THE  FLOWERS     ....  87 

I  MlSS  YOU  FROM  OUR  LITTLE  TRUNDLE-BED   .        .  90 

WHERE  SONGS  ABOUND 93 

THE  LAST  WORDS  OF  MOTHER 95 

COULD  You  BUT  KNOW 97 

OUR  BLESSINGS 98 

WHEN  I  SEE  THE  CHILDREN   COMING   HOME   FROM 

SCHOOL loo 

HER  LAST  FAREWELL 102 

LOVE'S  DREAM 106 

To  A  FRIEND 108 

I  WANT  TO  BE  GOOD 109 

TWILIGHT  MUSINGS no 

You  WILL  FORGET 112 

SYMPATHY 113 

ONLY  BE  TRUE 114 

MY  FRIENDS 115 

FRIENDSHIP  ONLY 116 

A  REVERIE 117 

MY  TRUST 119 

THAT  SWEET  SAD  WAY 121 

I  THINK  OF  THEE 123 

To  IRENE 124 

TO-NIGHT 125 

UNDER  THE  SMILE 126 

IF  I  WRITE 128 

THE  WHISTLING  BOY 130 

SLEEP  SWEETLY 132 

APART ,        .  133 


VI  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

IN  WOMAN'S  WORLD 135 

HAVE  FAITH  IN  GOD 136 

PRAYER 139 

DEAR  ONE,  ADIEU 140 

WE  'LL  MEET  AGAIN 142 

I  'M  WAITING  FOR  You 143 

LEAD  THEM  HOME 144 

THE  PARTING 146 

SHOW  THE  WORLD  WHAT  You  CAN  Do    .        .        .  148 

MY  VERSES  AND  MY  FRIEND 150 

I  KNOW  ONE  HEART  Is  TRUE 152 

LOVE'S  RESPONSE  TO  LOVE 154 

THE  HIDDEN  TREASURE 155 

REMEMBRANCE 157 

THE  MYSTERY  OF  LOVE 158 

ONE  LITTLE  SWEET  BLOSSOM 162 

REMORSE 163 

THINKING  OF  ME 164 

ETERNITY 165 

WOULD  I  WERE  A  BEE 167 

LOVE  Is  TRUE  TO  LOVE 168 

WHEN  You  WENT  AWAY 170 

YOUR  HEART 171 

COME  BACK  TO  MY  HEART 172 

SHE  ONCE  WAS  FAIR 174 

YE  WELCOME  DREAMS 175 

I  WAS  UNKIND 176 

THE  SUMMER  Is  GONE 177 

BE  KIND 178 


CONTENTS.  Vll 

PAGE 

LONGING 179 

DECEIVED 180 

THE  FIRST  BORN 182 

SONNET 183 

LIKE  THE  STRINGS  OF  THE  OLD  GUITAR  .        .         .  184 

REGRET 186 

WE  WERE  SCHOOLMATES,  FRED  AND  I      ...  188 

ABIDE  WITH  ME 190 

THANKSGIVING 192 

Too  SWEET  THE  PAST 193 

No  OTHER  LOVE 194 

ANGELS'  VOICES 195 

THE  LEAVES  OF  THE  ROSES  OF  LOVE        .        .        .  197 

FRAGMENTS 198 

YE  MEMORIES 199 

MY  BABY  GIRL 201 

A  NAME 204 

As  WE  SEE  IT 205 

FORGOTTEN 206 

THEY  TELL  ME  THOU  ART  GROWING  OLD       .        .  207 

ALONE 209 

MY  LITTLE  DAUGHTER 210 

WHO? 2ii 

REVENGED 213 

CROWNED 216 

DELIGHT 219 

FALSELY  ACCUSED 222 

CONSCIENCE 224 

NIGHT  AND  DAY 225 


LYRICS  OF  THE  WEST. 


THE   LAND   WHERE    DREAMS   COME 
TRUE. 

THERE  's  a  land  where  deathless  flowers 

Breathe  their  fragrance  on  the  air, 
And  the  little  wounded  song-bird 

Lives  again  more  glad  and  fair. 
There  the  stormclouds  do  not  lower, 

For  the  sky  is  ever  blue, 
*T  is  the  place  where  lovers  linger, 

And  the  land  where  dreams  come  true. 

There  the  minstrels  songs  are  singing 

That  were  left  to  us  unsung, 
And  the  marriage  bells  are  ringing 

That  on  earth  were  never  rung. 
There  the  jewels  flash  and  sparkle 

For  the  many,  not  the  few, 
And  there  's  ne'er  a  wind  a-sighing 

In  the  land  where  dreams  come  true. 


LYRICS  OF  THE  WEST. 

I  have  seen  a  little  maiden 

Fix  her  gaze  upon  the  stars, 
Then  I  've  seen  her,  unsuspecting, 

Turn  and  grasp  the  sin  that  mars. 
And  the  years  roll  on  in  sadness, 

And  the  sky  has  lost  its  blue — 
Little  maiden,  stars  are  shining 

In  the  land  where  dreams  come  true. 

Thus  we  all  have  seen  the  shadow, 

And  we  long  for  light  of  day, 
Oh,  the  flowers  quickly  wither 

That  are  blooming  by  the  way. 
There  are  voices  gently  calling, 

Where  the  music  's  ever  new, 
And  there  's  ne'er  a  note  of  sadness 

In  the  land  where  dreams  come  true. 

We  are  waiting — worn  and  weary, 

By  the  river  deep  and  wide, 
For  the  coming  of  the  boatman 

Who  shall  take  us  all  a  ride. 
Ah,  we  '11  sing  as  we  go  sailing 

O'er  the  laughing  waters  blue, 
To  the  land  of  blooming  flowers, 

And  the  land  where  dreams  come  true. 


FROM  OUT  THE  SWEETNESS  OF  THE 
PAST. 

FROM  out  the  sweetness  of  the  past, 
Those  dreams  of  joy  that  could  not  last, 
I  *ve  felt  a  touch  that  seemed  to  thrill 
Like  love's  first  kiss — Ah,  e'en  until 
From  rosy-tinted  clouds  I  dreamed 
That  cooling  waters  fell.     It  seemed 
The  zephyrs  on  the  wing  were  borne 
To  rend  the  veil  'twixt  night  and  morn. 

Naught  but  a  pile  of  ashes  heaped 
On  altar  where  the  flame  once  leaped, 
A  voice  whose  tones  are  oft  suppressed, 
To  still  the  pain  within  my  breast, 
And  yet  I  cling  to  thee — Oh,  stay, 
Ye  memories,  and  give,  I  pray, 
Thy  touch,  nor  leave  me  at  the  last, 
As  did  the  sweetness  of  the  past. 

Perchance  in  fairer  worlds  than  this, 
No  hand  may  dash  the  cup  of  bliss 
3 


LYRICS  OF  THE  WEST. 

From  thirsty  lips  away.     Yet  give, 
O  power  divine,  all  joy — to  live 
For  ages — this  to  them  who  sing 
As  passionless  as  bird  of  wing, 
But  this  to  me — one  hour  at  last, 
From  put  the  sweetness  of  the  past. 


LOVE'S   YEARNING. 

IF  it  were  mine  to  gather  in  my  hands  unfading 

flowers ; 

If  it  were  mine  to  sing  in  sweeter  tones  than  mor- 
tals sing; 
If  I  could  drink  of  every  joy,  and  stay  the  fleeting 

hours; 
If  I  could  change  to  fairy  forms  the  winds  upon 

the  wing; 
Oh,  could  I  all  of  this  and  more — all  else  to  me 

were  given; 
If  I,  whene'er  I  slept,  within   an  angel's  arms 

could  rest, 
I  'd  give  all  these,  and  then  me  thinks  I  'd  know 

the  bliss  of  heaven 

If  I  could  only  lay  my  head  one  moment  on  thy 
breast. 

Then  like  the  song  that  sweetly  thrilled,  then  died 

while  joy  imparting, 

Yea,  like  the  rose  that  bloomed  to  die  beneath  a 
sky  most  fair, 

5 


6  LYRICS   OF   THE    WEST. 

This  moment  be  as  fleeting,  yet,  within  that  brief 

space  hiding, 
Were  more  of  rapture,  more  of  joy,  than  love, 

sweet  love,  can  bear. 
E'en  were  I  queen  of  heaven's  hosts,  of  all  fair 

beings  fairest, 
I  yet  had  not  known  happiness — I  'd  come  to 

earth  in  quest 
Of  this,  my  love,  and,  oh,  't  would  be  the  moment 

dearest,  rarest, 

If  it  were  mine  to  lay  my  head  one  moment  on 
thy  breast. 


I  WILL   BE   TRUE. 

I  WILL  be  true;  we  've  said  good-bye, 
We  '11  meet  no  more,  love,  you  and  I, 
Let  silence  keep  her  royal  throne, 
The  future  shall  the  past  atone, 
The  coming  years  may  drag  or  fly, 

Like  clouds  in  yonder  dismal  sky, 
Earth's  blossoms  droop,  and  fade  and  die, 
So  doth  each  joy,  yet  I  depone, 
I  will  be  true. 

Fond  memories  of  the  past  draw  nigh, 
When  wrapped  in  slumber  I  shall  lie; 
Bring  back  the  one  I  love,  alone, 
Whom  death  nor  demons  shall  dethrone 
From  my  true  heart — we  've  said  good-bye, 
I  will  be  true. 


A   FADED   ROSE. 

A  FADED  rose,  't  is  all  thou  art, 
And  yet  thou  speakest  to  my  heart, 

And  what  thou  sayest  none  may  hear 

Save  me  alone,  and  oft  a  tear 
Is  in  mine  eye — we  could  but  part. 

Thou  gavest  me  this  rose,  sweetheart; 
I  wore  it  on  my  breast.     Impart 

Sweetness  and  grace,  thou  treasure  dear, 
A  faded  rose. 

Yes,  faded,  crumpled  rose,  ye  start 

Infinite  longings,  and  the  smart 

Of  pain  ye  give,  but  pain  were  cheer, 
For  love   is  true,  though  far  or  near; 

And  so  I  bless,  I  prize,  sweetheart, 
A  faded  rose. 


I  LOVE  YOU. 

I  LOVE  you,  dear  one,  tell  me  how 
Or  why  you  dare  not  thus  avow 
Your  heart  to  me;  you  call  me  fair, 
And  gentle  words  you  do  not  spare, 
Before  me  like  a  king  you  bow; 

You  kiss  my  lips,  my  cheeks,  my  brow, 
You  press  me  to  your  heart,  and  now 
I  listen  for  these  words  so  dear: 
I  love  you. 

Laud  not  my  beauty — more,  allow 
My  heart  to  rest,  or  else  endow 
With  these  three  words  I  long  to  wear, 
Like  jewels  on  my  soul;  forbear 
All  things  to  say,  or  whisper  now: 
I  love  you. 


TO  LIVE. 

14  IT  is  not  all  of  life  to  live," 

A  precious  gem  of  poet's  thought, 
The  numbered  years  we  sadly  give, 
And  learn  to  live. 

I  have  not  lived  in  vain  if  I 

Have  offered  but  one  kindly  word, 
Have  kissed  away  while  moments  fly 
One  weary  sigh. 

Or  if,  perchance,  for  one  in  need 
Of  mercy  and  a  helping  hand, 
I  lend  my  own — no  censure  heed, 
But  sow  good  seed. 

It  may  be  when  the  day  is  drear, 
I  pluck  a  rose  of  brightest  hue, 
And  let  it  bear  a  ray  of  cheer 
To  one  most  dear. 

10 


TO  LIVE.  II 


To  pray  for  some  poor  heart,  forgive, 

If  one  have  wronged  thee,  aye,  to  sing 
Tho'  tears  are  in  thine  eyes,  believe 
'T  is  this  to  live. 


SWEETEST   WORDS. 

THE  sweetest  words  of  mother,  friend,  or  brother, 
The  dearest  words  of  lover  fond  and  true, 

The  words  that  speak  the  heart,  imparting  gladness, 
Rich  jewels  like  the  stars  in  heaven's  blue; 

That  fall  upon  the  ear  like  psalms  at  twilight, 
And  calm  the  soul  like  carol  of  the  birds, 

The  sweetest  words  may  not  be  these,   "  I  love 

you," 

'  *  God  bless  you, ' '  softly  spoken — sweetest  words. 


12 


WHAT   ARE   THE  WILD   WAVES 
SAYING  ? 

WHAT  are  the  wild  waves  saying  ? 

List  to  the  song  at  sea, 
Perchance  a  golden  message 

Lies  in  the  sea  for  thee. 
Hark!  't  is  a  gentle  murmur, 

Breathed  as  a  breath  divine, 
Over  the  waves  of  ocean, 

Into  this  heart  of  mine. 

What  are  the  wild  waves  saying  ? 

When  o'er  their  foaming  crest, 
Gaily  the  proud  ships  sailing, 

Glide  like  a  thing  at  rest. 
Waken!  the  wild  waves  whisper, 

Waken !  ye  souls  who  sleep, 
Sing  while  the  days  are  fleeting, 

Love  is  an  ocean  deep. 

This,  too,  the  waves  are  telling, 
"  Ships  that  pass  in  the  night 
13 


14  LYRICS   OF   THE    WEST. 

Greet  one  another  passing," 
List  to  the  waves  to-night. 

Only  a  kind  word  spoken, 
Out  on  the  sea  of  life, 

Lifted  a  fallen  brother, 
Led  him  from  sin  and  strife. 

What  are  the  wild  waves  saying  ? 

Look  unto  God  and  live! 
Follow  the  paths  of  virtue, 

If  thou  art  wronged,  forgive. 
Breathe  not  the  breath  of  slander, 

Dare  to  do  right  alway, 
Ever  the  wild  waves  whisper — 

Live  but  to  love  and  pray. 


WHEN   LOVE   SHALL   COME. 

SOME  day  shall  love  at  my  chamber  knock, 
And  I  shall  at  once  unbolt  the  door, 
And  bid  him  enter  and  find  sweet  rest, 
And  pillow  his  head  on  my  snowy  breast. 

0  God,  I  have  kept  my  heart  from  sin, 
That  a  pure,  true  love  it  were  mine  to  give, 

1  have  bathed  my  soul  in  the  light  of  heaven, 
That  love  might  be  held  in  constancy. 

And  my  heart  like  a  lyre  whose  strings  unswept 
Sing  out  'neath  the  snow-white  fingers — waits 
For  the  touch  of  flame — oh,  infinite  bliss, 
In  dreams  I  have  thrilled  'neath  the  lover's  kiss. 
Come,  love,  to  me  in  the  soft  twilight, 
I  yearn  for  the  sound  of  thy  light  footfall. 
Would' st  thou  wake  my  soul  with  a  pure  desire  ? 
Would' st  thou  drink  to  the  full  the  sweets  of  love  ? 
Then  be  thou  as  pure,  as  worthy  be 
As  e'er  in  my  waiting  dream  thou  art; 
For  love  to  be  constant  must  be  pure, 
And  love  is  immortal  only  so. 
Ah,  who  can  a  great  soul-passion  feel  ? 
15 


l6  LYRICS  OF  THE    WEST. 

Not  she  who  hath  drunk  from  many  a  cup, 

Whose  soul  is  dead  to  a  noble  trust, 

But  she  whose  thought  at  the  midnight  hour 

Is  purified  in  the  light  of  prayer. 

When  my  king  shall  come  I  have  been  true, 

And  I  have  no  fear  when  his  lips  touch  mine; 

Let  me  drink  from  his  lips  the  nectar  sweet, 

And  lie  on  his  breast  in  pure  delight, 

Yea,  know  that  I  've  hidden  within  my  heart 

Joys  that  are  sweetest  for  him  alone. 

Love  is  devotion,  it  hath  been  said, 

Another  hath  named  it  sympathy, 

Methinks  't  is  a  dream  of  bliss,  a  joy 

By  mortal  man  never  yet  defined. 

But  this  I  know,  that  with  outstretched  arms 

I  wait  to  receive  this  king  of  bliss, 

My  heart  all  tuned  to  his  lightest  touch, 

My  soul  swept  clear  of  all  baser  thought; 

And  ever  he  comes,  I  live  to  say, 

I  've  waited  thy  coming  and  been  true. 


THE   CHILDREN'S   HOUR. 

NIGHT  is  falling  round  the  cottage, 

It  is  now  the  children's  hour; 
Tiny  voices  laugh  and  prattle, 

While  the  mother's  kisses  shower 
Over  each  fair  brow  their  blessings, 

Mother's  kisses — what  delight! 
Who  like  she  can  sing  so  sweetly, 

Who  so  brightly  smile  to-night? 

Seated  in  the  dim  old  parlor, 

At  the  organ,  list,  she  sings, 
And  the  little  ones  around  her, 

Seem  to  hear  the  fairy  wings. 
While  the  voice  so  sweet  and  gentle 

Breathes  its  beauty  on  the  air, 
'T  is  a  picture  for  an  artist, 

For  an  artist's  theme  most  fair. 

Song  is  ended,  lamps  are  lighted, 
And  the  curtains  have  been  drawn, 

There  's  no  sound  of  baby  laughter 
Now  upon  the  grassy  lawn. 
17 


1 8  LYRICS  OF  THE    WEST. 

Little  ones  are,  oh,  so  quiet, 
List'ning  to  the  precious  Word, 

Ere  the  good-nights  have  been  spoken, 
And  they  kneel  before  the  Lord. 

I  *m  a  friend  in  this  glad  circle, 

Oft  I  join  in  prayer  and  song, 
Sometimes  tell  a  gladsome  tale,  and 

Thus  the  children's  hour  prolong. 
But  more  often  am  I  dreaming 

I  'm  a  painter,  bless' d  alway, 
Just  to  paint  this  wife  and  babies, 

In  these  scenes  at  close  of  day. 

When  each  little  prayer  is  finished 

Comes  a  scene  more  bless'd  to  me 
Than  to  roam  in  fields  Elysian, 

Sipping  sweets  from  every  tree. 
Then  the  mother  brings  her  baby 

For  the  father's  kiss.     Oh,  there 
Is  a  picture  for  a  painter, 

With  a  theme  of  all  most  fair. 

Little  ones  are  tucked  so  neatly 
In  a  dainty,  snowy  bed, 


THE    CHILDREN'S  HOUR.  19 

And  again  each  parent  kisses 

Little  Rosa,  Will,  and  Ned. 
Then  I  've  watched  the  tear-drops  falling, 

While  the  lips  have  framed  a  smile, 
As  the  mother  bent  above  them, 

Dreaming  of  the  after  while. 

I  have  brought  each  scene  before  you 

That  I  see  at  close  of  day, 
In  this  home  where  love  is  shining 

Brighter  than  the  sun's  own  ray. 
But  of  all  the  treasured  pictures 

While  the  mother  kneels  in  prayer, 
Babe  in  arms,  beside  its  cradle, 

This  must  be  of  all  most  fair. 


SAILING. 

LIFE  is  a  great,  great  ocean,  dear, 

Over  her  bosom  glides 
Beautiful  forms  that  as  swiftly  go 

As  the  king  of  the  night  wind  rides. 
And  the  skies  are  fair  and  the  songs  are  rare, 

And  we  sip  from  the  fount  of  pleasure, 
While  over  the  sea  of  life  we  sail, 

And  hide  in  the  heart  love's  treasure. 

Out  on  the  great,  wide  ocean,  dear, 

Two  little  boats  are  sailing, 
Fate,  who  is  king  of  the  land  and  sea, 

Shall  guide  to  the  port  unfailing. 
And  it  may  be,  dear, — in   the   thought   there   's 
cheer, — 

They  shall  glide  alongside  each  other, 
Oh,  it  may  be,  dear,  in  a  golden  hour, 

They  shall  meet,  though  they  part  forever. 


20 


MY   TREASURE   IS  WITH   GOD. 

THE  snow  lies  deep  on  yonder  little  mound, 

I  do  not  weep ; 

Death  hath  not  robbed  me,  I  have  found 
The  way  to  God  since  baby  came 
And  taught  me  how  to  breathe  His  name, 
Then  fell  asleep. 


21 


MY  GIFTS. 

I  SEEK  not  jewels  rare  nor  perfumes  sweet 

This  Christmas  day, 
But,  Father,  kneeling  at  Thy  feet, 
A  firmer  trust  is  all  my  need, 
A  purer  heart,  for  this  I  plead; 
These  give,  I  pray. 


FORGIVENESS. 

You  go  your  way,  dear  one,  and  I, 

Altho'  you  made  my  heart  to  bleed, 
Am  praying  you  '11  return;  maybe, 

Your  soul  not  yet  has  felt  the  need 
Of  pardon  and  of  peace,  and  yet 

I  long  to  fold  you  to  my  breast, 
And  kiss  your  eyes,  your  lips,  and  bid 

Your  wand* ring  spirit  find  sweet  rest. 

You  do  not  like  to  say,  "  forgive,0 

You  fear  to  come  lest  I  '11  reprove; 
The  years  go  by,  and  you  forget 

I  gave  to  you  my  soul's  best  love. 
And  think  you  I  'd  be  stern  and  cold  ? 

Ah,  little  do  you  know  my  heart, 
I  've  all  forgotten  now,  dear  one, 

But  that  as  friends  we  did  not  part. 

If  I  were  you,  and  mine  the  wrong, 
Before  to-morrow's  setting  sun, 
23 


24  LYRICS  OF  THE    WEST. 

I  'd  kneel  before  you,  dear,  and  plead 

Your  pardon  for  the  evil  done. 
And  yet  I  would  not  have  you  ask — 

What!  need  you  ask  ?  does  love  still  live  ? 
Dear  heart,  I  love  you — all  forget, 

And  sweet  it  is  just  to  forgive. 


TO   LOVE. 

IF  I  were  dead,  thy  kiss  alone 
Would  call  me  back  to  life, 
And  if  I  slept  where  demons  moan, 
Where  all  the  air  with  sin  is  rife, 

And  thou  wert  passing  by, 
To  see  thy  face  would  all  atone, 
My  soul  would  reach  the  sky. 

For,  says  the  Good  Book,  "  God  is  love," 

Ah,  then,  't  is  plain  to  see 
Where  love  may  be — but  need  I  prove 
'T  is  heaven  at  once  where  love  may  be  ? 

Oh,  sweet,  sweet  love,  abide 
With  me,  and  to  the  courts  above 
I  shall  not  be  denied. 


25 


SWEET   ROSES. 

MELT  upon  my  lips,  O  thou 

Queen  of  all  fair  flowers, 
Leave  thy  perfume  on  my  breath 

Through  life's  golden  hours. 
Whisper  to  my  soul — thou  art 

Mercy's  kisses  given 
By  the  dear,  kind  hand  of  God, 

From  the  sweets  of  heaven. 

Ah,  methinks  when  first  the  earth, 

Clothed  in  bloom  and  beauty, 
Threw  her  kisses  to  the  sun, 

Knew  that  joy  was  duty. 
Then  an  angel  dropped  a  smile 

To  the  earth — it  melted, 
Budded,  bloomed  a  pure  white  rose, 

And,  ere  it  had  wilted, 

Love  was  pledged  to  all  mankind 
By  its  pure  white  petals, 
26 


SWEET  ROSES.  2/ 

By  its  perfume,  wondrous  rare, 
Dripped  from  heaven's  portals. 

Then  the  red  rose  bloomed — passion's 
Ruddy  face  in  nature — 

Kissing  us  with  her  dear  lips, 
Thrilling  life  with  pleasure. 

Pink  roses  came — enchanting,  fair, 

Then  man  tuned  his  lyre, 
Dreamed  his  dream  and  gave  the  world 

Strains  from  heaven's  choir. 
Then  the  little  sweet  wild  rose, 

Blooming  on  the  plain, 
Grew  for  beauty's  sake  unseen, 

Lived,  but  not  in  vain. 

Roses  sweet,  oh,  joy  ye  give! 

Teach  me  thine  adorning; 
Ah,  't  is  but  the  breath  of  God, 

Breathed  when  first  the  morning 
Waves  her  banners  to  the  sun! 

Life  that  nothing  loses 
By  its  swift  decay — loved,  pure, 

Joy  of  all — sweet  roses. 


MARY   MAGDALENE. 

[Charles  F.  Deems,  in  his  Light  of  the  Nations^  speaking 
of  Mary  Magdalene,  says  :  *'  Here  is  one  of  those  unhappy 
cases  in  history  in  which  some  misapprehension  has  occurred 
which  has  succeeded  in  branding  a  name  with  an  undeserved 
infamy  and  perpetuating  it  through  generations.  In  her  real 
life  she  was  lifted  to  a  heaven  of  love  ;  in  history,  she  has 
been  cast  down  to  a  hell  of  infamy.  Let  her  be  restored. 
The  truth  does  restore  her.  The  friend  of  Jesus  was  a 
blessed  saint."] 

STRIKE  the  harp  with  gentle  fingers, 

Softly  touch  the  strings  to-night; 
Let  me  sing,  and  if  there  lingers 

Sadness  in  the  strain  so  bright. 
Drop  a  tear;  I  sing  to  tell  thee 

Story  sweet  as  ever  told, 
Of  the  wondrous  love  of  Mary, 

Mary  Magdalene  of  old. 

Friend  of  Jesus,  saintly  Mary, 
See  her  kneeling  at  the  cross, 

While  her  heart  in  silent  passion 
Burns  with  torture  in  her  loss. 
28 


MARY  MAGDALENE.  29 

And  He  died — she  saw  Him  buried, 
Knew  not  He  would  rise  again, 

Fondest  hope  of  Him  had  perished 
In  His  grave — such  was  her  pain. 

To  the  sepulchre  she  hastened, 

When  the  Sabbath  day  was  done, 
And  her  tears  like  rain  were  falling, 

She  was  counting  one  by  one 
Dying  words  that  He  had  uttered, 

Seemed  His  every  groan  she  heard, 
For  she  loved  the  sad,  sweet  music 

Of  each  well-remembered  word. 

But  the  sepulchre  was  empty, 

Angel  forms  were  standing  there, 
Whom  she  heeded  not,  but  yielded 

Once  again  to  dark  despair. 
Jesus  came,  He  gently  murmured, 

In  the  tones  she  knew  so  well, 
One  word — "  Mary," — but  it  thrilled  her 

Back  to  consciousness — she  fell 

At  His  feet,  she  dared  not  touch  Him, 
Yet  her  gentle  heart  did  yearn 


3O  LYRICS  OF  THE    WEST. 

Just  to  clasp  His  feet,  to  touch  them 
With  her  lips — her  heart  did  burn. 

And  methinks  when  He  had  left  her, 
Oft  she  kissed  the  hallowed  spot 

Where  He  stood,  while  there  recalling 
Saintly  words — these:   "  Touch  me  not." 

Oh,  how  well  she  loved  her  Healer  ! 

'T  was  a  love  more  sweet,  more  true 
Than  the  dews  that  fall  at  twilight, 

Than  the  light  in  heaven's  blue. 
And  He  loved  her  as  no  other — 

Sweetest  story  ever  told — 
Of  the  Saviour's  love  to  Mary, 

Mary  Magdalene  of  old. 


FIRELIGHT   REVERIES. 

WHEN  the  night  has  drawn  her  curtains, 

And  the  candles  have  been  lit; 
When  you  sit  you  down  in  silence, 

And  you  dream,  and  nod,  and  knit; 
Know  ye  not  your  home  so  happy, 

Free  from  every  troubled  air, 
Shall  one  day  be  dark  and  gloomy, 

When  Death's  angel  enters  there  ? 

And  my  sister,  sweet  and  gentle, 

Loved  and  cherished  far  and  near, 
Have  you  not  a  friend  in  sorrow, 

Who  would  prize  a  word  of  cheer  ? 
One  whose  lonely  heart  would  cherish 

Little  whisperings  of  love  ? 
White-winged  messengers — oh,  send  them; 

Gladly  flies  the  carrier  dove. 

Drop  your  knitting,  then,  't  is  better, 
With  your  pen  and  paper  write, 
3i 


32  LYRICS  OF  THE    WEST. 

You  have  labored  through  the  morning, 
It  will  give  sweet  rest  to-night 

Just  to  pen  some  words  of  kindness, 
That  may  lift  a  load  of  care; 

If  your  heart  overflows  with  gladness, 
Give  to  one  less  glad  a  share. 

Have  a  smile  for  those  who  love  thee, 

Have  a  tear  for  those  who  hate; 
When  a  wayworn  traveller  cometh, 

Open  wide  the  vineyard  gate. 
And  when  darkness  spreads  her  banner 

'Neath  the  twinkling  stars  above, 
Write  those  messages  of  comfort, 

Seal  them  with  the  kiss  of  love. 


MY   KANSAS   HOME. 

THE  dear  old  farm  I  yearn  to  see, 

Whose  fields  my  bare  feet  loved  to  roam, 
The  place  my  chidhood  loved  the  best, 
My  Kansas  home. 

When  but  a  tiny,  wayward  thing, 

I  loved  to  sail  the  prairie  sea, 
And  sing  the  grand  old  granger  songs, 
So  dear  to  me. 

The  curling  bufflo  grass  was  fair 

To  me  as  fields  of  clover  bloom, 
It  carpeted  my  play-house  floor 
In  every  room. 

And  what  cared  I  if  'long  the  trail 
The  Indians  were  wont  to  stray, 
They  harmed  me  not — oh,  happy  time, 
My  youth's  bright  day. 

You  tell  me  that  the  sunbeams  burned 
The  very  seed  in  prairie  sea ; 
33 


34  LYRICS   OF   THE    WEST. 

Ah,  well,  if  that  be  false  or  true, 
'T  is  naught  to  me. 

And  oft  I  hear  you,  laughing,  say, 

That  long  ago  the  winds  were  wild, 
Perhaps  that  may  be  true,  but  then 
I  was  a  child. 

To-day  the  dear  old  home  is  changed, 
Perhaps  J  would  not  know  the  place, 
Could  I  go  back,  old  paths  I  think 
I  could  not  trace. 

And  yet  how  sweet  to  dream  of  thee, 

Beneath  the  blue  of  heaven's  dome! 
Thy  memory  is  a  joy  to  me, 
My  Kansas  home. 


WHEN  YOU  VISIT  ME  IN  DREAMS. 

SOMETIMES  in  the  hour  before  the  dawn, 

From  a  golden  cup  my  spirit  sips, 
For  't  is  then  you  come  at  the  break  of  day, 

And  I  wake  with  your  kiss  upon  my  lips. 
And  I  know  not  whether  I  'm  blest  or  no, 

For  your  lips  on  mine  bring  back  my  pain, 
And  yet  I  'm  glad  when  the  day  is  done, 

I  may  hold  you  close  in  my  dreams  again. 

O  God  !  that  you  'd  clasp  me  to  your  breast, 

And  breathe  in  my  face  your  sweet,  warm  breath, 
And  speak  my  name  in  the  tones  I  love, 

Then  float  with  me  thro'  the  gates  of  death. 
For  I  would  not  wake  from  my  dreams,  dear  heart, 

For  after  the  sweet  dream  joys  are  o'er, 
My  heart  so  yearns,  like  a  fretting  child, 

To  creep  back  into  your  arms  once  more. 


35 


THE   LITTLE   ONES. 

"  OH,  your  mamma  is  so  nice!  " 

'T  was  a  baby  voice  I  heard, 
Speaking  to  my  youngest  darling, 

And  I  treasured  each  fond  word. 
'T  was  a  day  when  things  unkind, 

Said  of  me  I  'd  chanced  to  hear, 
When  the  venom  of  a  falsehood 

Pierced  me  with  its  poisoned  spear. 

Then  I  kissed  the  precious  child, 
He  looked  up  in  my  face  and  smiled, 
"  Always  I  think  you  're  so  good," 
Said  the  little  one.     Ah,  would 
Envy's  verdict  nearer  be 
Fair  and  just  and  right  ?     I  see 
He  who  with  joy  life's  journey  runs, 
Doth  heed  love's  voice — the  little  ones. 


TO   THE   VIOLINIST. 

SOFTLY,  sweetly,  grand,  majestic, 

Float  the  tones  upon  the  air, 
Unto  one  of  love  they  whisper, 

To  another  breathe  a  prayer. 
What  the  tale,  O  strange  musician, 

Thou  art  seeking  to  declare  ? 
Dost  thou  tell  of  joy  or  sadness  ? 

Are  thy  visions  marred  or  fair  ? 

Who  can  tell,  who  can  interpret 

What  thou  sayest  ?  Enter  in 
To  thy  secret,  hidden  meaning, 

Dreamer  with  the  violin  ? 
For  thy  tones  are  sweet,  yea,  sweeter 

Than  in  dreams  the  lover's  kiss, 
And  anon  they  trill  and  tremble, 

Like  the  song  of  birds  we  miss. 

Then  the  tones  die  out  in  sadness, 
Naught  save  longing  and  regret 
37 


38  LYRICS  OF   THE    WEST. 

Speak  the  heart,  for  at  thy  bidding 

Memory  awakes — and  yet 
Would  I  hide  within  the  casket 

Of  my  life  of  yesterday 
Dreams  that  vanished  with  the  waking  ? 

Still  forget  to  love  and  pray  ? 

Ah,  I  caught  the  white-winged  message, 

Like  the  poet's  jewelled  lance, 
Higher  rose  the  strains  majestic, 

Then  in  one  swift,  burning  glance 
Spoke  he  all  his  soul  ;  and  never 

In  a  world  of  strife  and  sin, 
Shall  I  meet  again  the  dreamer 

With  the  dear,  loved  violin. 


WHEN   SCHOOL   BEGINS. 

THE  names  must  all  be  written 
In  school-books  neat  and  new, 

And  covers  made  to  keep  them, 
And  pencils  sharpened,  too; 

For  little  sons  and  daughters 
We  love  these  things  to  do. 

There  's  Tom's  name  to  be  written 
In  all  his  books — that  's  eight, 

And  Lizzie's  six,  then  Freddie's, 
I  '11  print  it  on  his  slate. 

How  short  a  time  it  seemeth 

Since  I,  too,  was  a  child, 
And  father  brought  my  school-books, 

With  joy  my  heart  was  wild; 
To  study  was  my  pleasure, 

And  hope  my  hours  beguiled. 

They  all  come  back  so  plainly, 
Those  days  so  far  away, 
39 


40  LYRICS  OF   THE    WEST. 

When  mother  wrote  my  name  in 
My  school-books;  and  to-day 

Another  memory  waketh, 

There  's  one  less  name  to  write 
Than  when  last  year  they  brought  me 

Their  books;  sad  thoughts  bedight 
The  teardrops,  how  I  '11  miss  him! 

One  less  to  kiss  good-bye, 
When  off  to  school  the  children 

At  morn  and  noon  shall  hie. 

And  lonely  here  I  'm  watching, 
Lest  little  feet  should  roam, 

And  'mid  the  tears  I  'm  praying 
Beneath  God's  fair  blue  dome, 

That  when  life's  school  is  ended, 
We  all  shall  meet  at  home. 


MY   OFFERING. 

I  ONCE  thought  life  all  beauty, 
Her  paths  the  ways  of  peace, 

The  winds  so  sweetly,  softly  sighed, 
In  all  their  glad  release. 

And  then  I  brought  my  offering 
Unto  our  God;  my  prayers 

And  lovely  thoughts  I  gave  Him, 
And  my  heart  knew  naught  of  cares. 

Life's  morn  I  brought  to  Him 
A  heart  that  loved  to  sing; 

Life's  beauties  all  I  sought,  then  gave 
To  God  my  offering. 

I  lived,  and  then  came  duty 

A-wooing  at  my  feet, 
Although  his  pleadings  men  despise, 

To  me  his  voice  was  sweet. 

Perchance  he  'd  be  unkind  if  one 
Should  loiter  by  the  way, 
41 


42  LYJZICS  OF   THE    WEST. 

And  yet  since  I  have  loved  him, 
I  've  learned  aright  to  pray. 

And  now  I  shall  present 
The  gifts  I  have  to  bring — 

Life's  duties.     Thus  I  yield  to  God 
My  heart's  best  offering. 


THOU   HAST   A   HOPE. 

THOU  hast  a  hope  within  thy  breast, 

A  cherished,  sweet  desire; 
Nay,  more  it  is,  though  well  concealed, 

A  deathless  flame  of  fire. 

The  gods  have  kissed  thy  ruby  lips, 
Their  gift  has  left  a  madness 

To  tear  the  veil  from  poet's  heart, 
And  sing  the  world  thy  gladness. 

Thy  song  is  sung  and  dies  unheard, 
The  world  is  full  of  beauty; 

But  sing  again,  be  not  cast  down, 
Sing  on  and  do  thy  duty. 

Have  faith  in  God,  have  faith  in  man, 

Have  faith  in  efforts  given, 
Keep  smiling  on,  the  darkest  clouds 

Shall  flee,  by  sunshine  driven. 
43 


44  LYRICS  OF  THE    WEST. 

The  soul  that  's  brave,  that  dares  to  try, 
For  him  the  stars  are  shining; 

Then  sing,  I  pray,  the  poet's  lay, 
And  cease  thy  heart's  repining. 


OH,  THAT  WITH  THE  GENTLE  POETS. 

OH,  that  with  the  gentle  poets 

I  could  claim  the  humblest  place, 
For  I  'd  sing  not  of  the  angels, 

But  of  Nature  and  her  grace. 
I  would  tell  you  what  the  flowers 

In  their  simple  language  say, 
When  they  bloom  in  perfect  beauty, 

Bloom,  then  fade,  and  pass  away. 

I  would  listen  to  the  birdlings, 

And  interpret  their  sweet  song, 
For  I  know  they  sing  of  mercy 

And  of  love  the  summer  long. 
And  in  every  gentle  breeze  I 

Think  I  'd  hear  an  angel's  song, 
I  'd  commune  with  Nature's  God,  an-J 

Paint  not  lust  and  earthly  wrong. 

I  'd  not  picture  ugly  storm-clouds, 
I  'd  not  put  in  rhyme  things  vile, 

But  I  'd  seek  to  draw  a  picture 
Of  an  infant  child's  first  smile. 

45 


46  LYRICS   OF   THE    WEST. 

I  would  teach  that  to  be  happy, 
Man  should  live  to  love  and  pray, 

He  should  live  to  bless  another, 
Singing  duty's  song  each  day. 

Look!  the  lovely,  leafy  woodland 

Opens  wide  her  arms  of  cheer, 
If  you  yield  to  her  embraces, 

You  will  find  that  God  is  near. 
If  you  listen  He  will  whisper, 

That  in  Nature  He  has  given 
Singing  birds  and  blooming  flowers, 

As  a  tiny  glimpse  of  heaven. 

Yes,  if  with  the  gentle  poets 

I  could  claim  the  humblest  place, 
I  would  paint  for  you  fair  Nature, 

In  her  true  and  perfect  grace. 
And  in  my  verse  you  then  should  hear 

Little  children  laugh  and  sing, 
Ah,  I  'd  lead  the  world  to  worship 

At  the  feet  of  Christ,  my  King. 


"HE   DON'T    KNOW   ME." 

[The  following  verses  were  suggested  by  a  visit  of  mercy 
paid  by  the  writer  to  a  poor  abandoned  woman  in  her  prison 
cell.] 

DARK  is  the  dungeon  where  she  hides, 

Crushed  by  her  sin  and  shame, 
Fair  is  her  face  and  young  is  she, 

Lost,  but  for  her  Christ  came. 
One  who  has  felt  the  touch  of  God, 

Tells  of  His  love  so  free, 
Whispers  of  pardon,  but  said  she: 

11  Woman,  He  don't  know  me." 

Once  in  the  years  not  long  gone  by, 

One  little  babe  just  born, 
Nestled  close  to  its  mother's  heart, 

Glad  was  its  young  life's  morn. 
Ah,  seems  to  me  I  hear  them  yet, 

Prayers  by  that  mother  given, 
"  Father,  oh  lead  my  baby's  feet 

Straight  to  the  gates  of  heaven." 
47 


48  LYRICS  OF   THE    WEST. 

Years  roll  away,  that  mother  died; 

Sin  claimed  that  life  so  fair, 
Now  she  is  sinking  'neath  her*  shame, 

Filled  with  a  dark  despair. 
Thus  when  these  words  were  said  to  her, 

"  Jesus  is  seeking  thee," 
Melted  to  tears  she  sadly  said, 

"  Woman,  He  don't  know  me." 

Ye  who  are  mothers,  do  ye  hear 

This  poor  girl's  sad  refrain  ? 
Press  to  your  heart  your  daughters  fair, 

Shield  them  from  sin  and  pain. 
Yet  as  ye  would  they  were  done  by, 

So  unto  others  be, 
Who  in  their  shame  hide  from  their  God, 

Saying,  "  He  don't  know  me." 

Ye  who  are  'neath  the  blood  of  Christ, 

Blow  ye  your  trumpets,  blow! 
Bring  the  poor  lost  ones  home  to  God, 

Go  to  the  desert,  go! 
Can  ye  who  feel  the  love  of  God 

Setting  your  spirits  free, 
Go  on  rejoicing  while  lost  souls 

Cry  out,  "  He  don't  know  me  "  ? 


HE  DON'T  KNOW  ME.  49 

Oh,  for  the  hearts  that  feel  the  cost 

Christ  for  the  lost  ones  gave, 
The  hearts  that  care  not  where  they  go, 

God's  erring  ones  to  save. 
Washed  in  the  blood  of  Christ  from  sin 

And  shame,  they  shall  be  free, 
Our  Saviour  came  to  save  the  lost 

Who  say,  "  He  don't  know  me." 


"GIVE    ME    THINE    HEART." 

"  GIVE  me  thine  heart,"  the  dear  Redeemer  said 
All  day  the  words  rang  thro*  my  aching  head, 
At  night  in  dreams  the  pleading  voice  I  heard, 
And  sought  to  still  it,  for  each  tender  word 
Was  torture  to  my  soul.     At  last  I  said, 

I  will  be  thankful  for  my  daily  bread, 
I  '11  help  the  needy,  kneel  down  by  my  bed, 
Repeat  my  prayers — no  longer  say,  dear  Lord, 
"  Give  me  thine  heart." 

One  day  I  wept  beside  my  precious  dead, 
All  hope,  it  seemed,  from  out  my  life  had  fled, 
I  knelt  to  pray,  but  like  a  wounded  bird, 
I  think  the  Father  reckoned  me — I  heard, 
And  all  my  being  thrilled  when  now  He  said, 
"  Give  me  thine  heart." 


MY  YOUTH. 

IF  I  had  beauty,  love,  and  health, 
And  fame,  and  every  joy,  forsooth, 

I  'd  give  them  all  and  count  it  wealth, 
If  only  I  might  keep  my  youth. 


MEDITATION. 

OH,  would  that  spring 

Were  here  with  birds  and  flowers, 
Green  grass  and  leafy  trees, 

And  sunlit  show'rs. 

'T  is  then  I  long 

To  leave  the  town,  and  flee 
To  Nature's  fond  embrace, 

In  shady  lea. 

And  there  unsought, 

My  hiding-place  unknown, 

I  would  commune  with  God, 
Sweetly  alone. 

My  soul  finds  peace, 

By  Nature's  moods  caressed, 
On  her  God's  finger  writes 

Eternal  rest. 


MY   ANSWER. 

You  ask  me  why  I  love  the  Spring  so  well, 

That  maid  whose  mood  brings  forth  or  wind  or 

rain; 
You  love  Queen  Summer  best — her  golden  grain, 

Her  smiling  skies  have  cast  you  'neath  a  spell. 

But  I  love  best  the  first  sweet  notes  that  tell 

That  Winter  's  fled.    Ere  flowers  graced  the  plain 
I  knew  you  first,  and,  dear,  those  days  remain 

Of  all  my  life  the  best — then  silence  fell 

Between  us  when  the  Autumn  days  drew  near. 
It  needs  no  word  to  prove  your  heart  is  true, 

And  yet  your  silence  stole  the  Winter's  cheer, 
My  heart  rejoiced  at  bidding  him  adieu 

To  welcome  back  the  Spring-time,  ah,  and  then, 

When  Summer  roses  bloom  we  '11  meet  again. 


53 


WHO   SAILS   WITH   ME? 

WHO  sails  with  me  ? — my  ship  hath  charms, 
And  sails  a  sea  that  nothing  harms; 
The  ships  that  rest  upon  her  breast, 
By  winds  and  waves  at  once  caressed. 
The  storm  may  sweep  the  sea,  alarms 
Be  given — fear  thou  not — my  arms 
Are  strong  to  guide  to  port.     Ye  storms, 
Ride  on !  my  ship  is  safest,  best — 
Who  sails  with  me  ? 

On  board  my  vessel,  who  conforms 
To  all  the  Captain's  rules  disarms 

The  very  prince  of  darkness.     Guessed 
Beneath  whose  flag  we  sail  ? — then  rest — 
King  Love  our  pilot  is — naught  harms 
Who  sails  with  me. 


54 


I   WILL   LISTEN. 

I  WILL  listen  in  the  morning 

For  Thy  dear  and  tender  voice, 
And  I  '11  follow  where  Thou  leadest, 

For  I  've  made  Thy  paths  my  choice. 
I  will  listen ;  Thou  wilt  call  me 

When  the  way  is  dark  and  drear, 
And  I  need  so  much  to  listen 

Lest  Thy  voice  I  may  not  hear. 

I  will  listen  in  the  tempest, 

And  I  '11  hear  thy  "  Peace,  be  still," 
If  my  cross  seem  hard  to  carry, 

I  will  hear,  "  Not  as  I  will." 
When  Thy  cross  was,  oh,  so  heavy, 

Thou  didst  humbly,  sweetly  say, 
"  Not  as  I  will,  but  as  Thou  wilt," 

Help  me  thus,  my  Lord,  to  pray. 


55 


THE   LOVE   OF   GOD. 

You  have  seen  the  clouds  when  they  drift  apart, 

Let  the  lovely  sunshine  through ; 
Thro'  the  clouds  of  life  I  have  seen  God's  love 

Like  the  sunlight  warm  and  true. 


WHEN   I   MEET   THEE. 

WHEN  I  meet  thee, 
Shall  I  greet  thee 

With  a  sigh  ? 

Shall  I  turn  away  my  face 
That  the  blushes  sure  will  grace, 
So  that  love  you  cannot  trace 
In  my  eye  ? 

Ah,  I  '11  greet  thee 
When  I  meet  thee 

By  and  by, 

With  a  glance  that  speaks  the  love 
Angels  whisper  from  above, 
Love  is  ever  true  to  love — 
Crowned  am  I. 


57 


WHILE   THE   BABY   SLEEPS. 

ON  a  downy  bed  of  snow 

Little  baby  lies; 
How  I  'd  love  to  kiss  him!  but 

If  I  do  he  cries. 
So  I  turn  to  leave  him  there, 
But  I  kneel  and  breathe  a  prayer 
That  the  angels  hover  near 

Where  my  baby  lies. 


IT   IS   SWEET   TO   LOVE. 

IT  is  sweet  to  love  when  the  summer  day 
Bids  the  earth  be  glad  and  the  heart  be  gay; 
When  the  darkness  sheds  not  a  single  ray, 
Oh,  then  it  is  sweet  to  love. 

But  the  summer  day  cometh  not  to  stay, 
And  its  sunshine  yields  to  the  winter  gray; 
In  the  night  of  life  shall  the  heart  be  gay  ? 
Ah,  yes,  it  is  sweet  to  love. 


59 


THE    FUTURE. 

THE  beautiful  future, 
She  beckons  to  me; 
She  bids  me  press  onward 

Her  glory  to  see. 

I  '11  rest  me  for  aye  on  her  bosom  of  love, 
I  'K  gaze  on  her  beauty,  with  her  I  will  rove; 
I  '11  sing  to  the  future  a  song  of  true  love, 
For,  ah,  she  is  singing  to  me. 


60 


LITTLE   GRACE. 

I  THINK  of  her  with  dancing  curls, 
The  light  of  childhood  in  her  face, 

The  loved  of  all,  both  boys  and  girls, 
My  little  school-mate — Grace. 

The  brightest  scholar  in  our  set, 

Ah  me,  she  gave  us  all  a  race 
To  keep  with  her — who  could  forget 

Dear,  laughing  little  Grace  ? 

And  then  before  we  reached  our  teens, 
My  parents  brought  me  to  the  West, 

And,  friends,  you  all  know  what  it  means 
To  leave  one  dearer  than  the  rest. 

Long  years  rolled  by,  her  face  alone 

Was  written  on  my  memory ; 
It  seemed  naught  could  to  me  atone 

If  I  no  more  her  face  might  see. 

So  after  many  years  had  fled, 

I  went  back  to  the  old  home  place; 
61 


62  LYRICS  OF   THE    WEST. 

When  there  at  once  to  friends  I  said, 
"  Tell  me  of  little  Grace. 

"  Wait,  does  she  live,  and  is  she  here  ? 

In  all  these  years  I  've  had  no  trace, 
What!  you  must  surely  know  her,  dear, 

My  little  school-mate,  Grace. 

"My  God!     What  can  it  be  ?     Altho' 
You  weep  and  turn  from  me  your  face, 

I  pray  you 'tell  if  aught  you  know 
Of  her,  my  playmate,  Grace. 

"  What 's  this  you  say,  been  dead  for  years  ? 

What!  died  in  shame  and  in  disgrace  ? 
My  God!  that  can't  be  true — my  ears 

Are  hard  of  hearing,  little  Grace. 

"I  '11  not  believe  this  thing  you  Ve  guessed, 
This  hell-born  tale,  sir,  you  shall  prove! 

The  babe  sleeps  on  the  mother's  breast  ? 
It  may  be  true,  great  God  above! 

"  Well,  if  you  speak  the  truth,  go  on, 
And  spare  me  not,  though  hard  the  blow, 


LITTLE  GRACE.  63 

You  tell  me  that  another  won 

My  Grace's  heart  ?     My  friend,  no,  no! 

"  We  were  but  children  then,  't  is  true, 
But  she  had  promised  she  'd  be  mine, 

I  loved  her — God !  she  loved  me,  too, 
I  saw  it  in  her  bright  eyes  shine. 

"  Come,  take  me  to  her  grave — when  there 
If  this  you  say,  it  must  be  truth. 

Oh,  lost,  lost,  lost,  my  child  so  fair, 
Lost,  lost  in  all  her  bloom  and  youth. 

"  You  say  before  she  died,  for  peace 
And  pardon  she  was  heard  to  call, 

And  God  in  mercy  did  release 
Her  soul,  forgave  her  errors  all." 

She  sleeps  now  in  an  unmarked  grave, 
Her  little  one  upon  her  breast, 

When  dying  cried,  "  He  came  to  save — 
Blest  Jesus/'  then  she  sank  to  rest. 

And  he  who  wrecked  her  life  still  lives, 
And  he  may  face  a  smiling  world, 


64  LYRICS  OF   THE    WEST. 

While  all  the  scorn  the  cold  world  gives 
At  little  Grace  is  hurled. 

But  sleep  on  in  thy  narrow  bed, 

With  naught  to  mar  thy  perfect  rest; 

I  '11  plant  sweet  flowers  at  thy  head, 
Sleep  on — God  knoweth  best. 

God  called  thee  home,  and  I  shall  live — 
No  matter  how — a  little  space; 

I  love  thee,  and  I  all  forgive, 
My  own  dear  little  Grace. 


WHEN   LOVE   IS   YOUNG   AND   LIFE   IS 
FAIR. 

How  sweet  the  joyous  dreams  of  youth! 

Who  would  not  welcome  from  the  past 
Those  dreams  again — ah,  who,  in  truth, 

Would  waken  from  those  dreams  at  last  ? 
When  happy  hearts  are  blind,  indeed, 

To  shadows  creeping  everywhere, 
How  sweet,  I  say,  love's  golden  meed, 

When  love  is  young  and  life  is  fair. 

How  laughing  girls  will  gaily  sing, 

While  tripping  o'er  the  grassy  lea, 
They  vie  in  song  with  birds  of  wing, 

And  ring  the  joy  bells  on  life's  sea. 
And,  oh,  the  song  is  sweet  if  sung 

By  lips  that  oft  have  breathed  a  prayer, 
For  all  will  sing  when  love  is  young, 

And  all  will  laugh  when  life  is  fair. 

Methinks  'tis  best  in  youth's  fair  day, 
To  sweetly  sing  and  not  to  sigh, 
65 


66  LYRICS  OF  THE    WEST. 

And  blest  to  learn  to  love  and  pray 
While  youth's  bright  days  are  going  by. 

And  when  I  'm  old  and  bent,  and  turned 
To  silver  is  my  golden  hair, 

I  '11  still  sing  on,  for  I  have  learned 
Love  's  ever  young,  life  's  always  fair. 


MOTHERHOOD. 

OF  all  the  good  and  precious  gifts, 
From  God,  the  Father,  given, 

The  blessed  gift  of  motherhood 
Hath  drawn  us  nearest  heaven. 

The  angels  ever  hover  round 

The  infant  at  the  breast, 
Ah,  a  mother  should  be  holy, 

Bless'd  of  God,  so  truly  bless'd. 

'  T  is  a  mighty  trust — O  Father, 
May  we  ever  faithful  prove, 

Guide  aright  these  priceless  jewels, 
Walk  with  Thee  in  faith  and  love. 


67 


WHOM   ANGELS   CROWNED. 

I  WAS  weary  with  life's  trials, 

And  I  thought  't  would  give  release 
To  my  mind  to  roam  in  dreamland, 

Breathe  its  vesper  airs  of  peace. 
But  there  came  not  when  I  sought  it, 

Sweet  forgetfulness  so  dear, 
And  I  could  not  banish  sorrow, 

Nor  encourage  thoughts  of  cheer. 

While  I  lay  and  wondered  idly, 

If  the  lost  chord  should  be  found, 
What  would  be  its  note  of  sweetness, 

Where  all  notes  had  dismal  sound, 
Hark!  to  me  is  borne  in  beauty, 

On  the  balmy  evening  air, 
Song  my  little  girl  is  singing, 

Like  an  angel  bright  and  fair. 

While  I  listened  came  a  vision, 
And  I  closed  my  weary  eyes, 

Thus  to  gaze  upon  the  beauty 
That  the  spirit  eye  espies. 

68 


WHOM  ANGELS  CROWNED.  69 

And  the  voice  sang  on  in  sweetness, 
While  the  heavenly  host  drew  near, 

Then  grew  dimmer,  weaker,  fainter, 
Till  it  passed  away  in  cheer. 

And  I  looked,  and  lo!  an  angel 

From  the  great  white  throne  of  God, 
Wearing  crown  of  wond'rous  beauty, 

Having  in  his  hand  a  rod, 
Stood  and  said  in  tones  of  music: 

"  We  will  crown  our  queen  for  aye, 
Who  will  be  the  Queen  of  Heaven  ? 

Let  her  make  her  plea  to-day. " 

Then  before  him  came  a  maiden, 

Who  was  gentle,  sweet,  and  fair, 
And  her  young  life  had  been  given 

To  the  lost  in  dark  despair; 
Came  the  woman  who  had  beauty, 

Came  the  one  whose  plea  was  fame, 
Came  the  woman  in  whose  life  had 

Never  burned  one  thought  of  shame. 

And  among  them  came  a  woman, 
Not  bedecked  with  jewels  rare, 


70  LYRICS  OF   THE    WEST. 

But  she  bore  the  name  of  Mother 

On  a  crescent  in  her  hair. 
And  she  said,  "  The  King  of  Heaven 

Granted  me  the  gift  divine, 
When  He  deemed  me  to  be  worthy 

And  a  little  babe  was  mine. 

"  I  have  heard  her  sing,  and  angels 

Hearing,  too,  drew  near  to  bless; 
As  I  've  tried  to  lead  her  footsteps, 

God  has  given  His  caress. 
I  can  love  as  doth  no  angel 

Never  bless* d  with  mother  love." 
Then  the  angels  shouted,  "  Crown  her 

Queen  of  all  the  hosts  above. ' ' 

And  the  vision  passed — I  wakened — 

Hear  the  sweet  voice  singing  yet, 
And  the  long-lost  chord  is  given 

With  no  discord  of  regret. 
Can  it  be  that  life  seemed  dreary, 

And  this  sweet- voiced  child  is  mine  ? 
Let  me  sing,  rejoice,  be  holy, 

For  the  crown  of  crowns  is  mine. 


I  LOVE  TO  HEAR  YOU  WHISTLE  WHEN 
YOU  'RE   COMING. 

OH,  I  love  to  hear  you  whistle 

When  you  're  coming  home  at  night, 
Though  the  way  be  dark  and  dismal, 

Or  the  stars  are  shining  bright. 
Ah,  't  is  true  you  did  not  know  it, 

But  it  thrills  me  with  delight, 
If  I  hear  you  gaily  whistle 

When  you  're  coming  home  at  night. 

In  this  world  of  sin  and  sorrow, 

There  are  haunts  to  lure  the  gay, 
And  I  would  not  have  you  venture 

Where  you  would  not  dare  to  pray. 
Then  I  listen  in  the  silence 

For  your  footstep  quick  and  light, 
And  ere  long  I  hear  you  whistle, 

When  you  're  coming  home  at  night. 

If  I  'm  waiting  in  the  darkness — 
For  a  mother  waits,  you  know — 


72  LYRICS  OF   THE    WEST. 

And  the  dismal  wind  is  sighing, 
And  the  clock  is  ticking  slow, 

All  the  singing  of  the  angels 
Could  not  give  me  such  delight 

As  the  music  of  your  whistle, 

When  you  're  coming  home  at  night. 

For  I  know  your  mind  is  merry, 

And  I  know  your  heart  is  gay, 
And  I  'm  sure  you  've  not  been  walking 

In  the  paths  that  lead  astray. 
If  your  heart  had  lost  its  music, 

And  your  soul  had  lost  its  sight, 
You  would  never  come  a-whistling 

When  you  're  coming  home  at  night. 


NEARER   MY  GOD   TO  THEE. 

"  NEARER  my  God  to  Thee, 

Nearer  to  Thee," 
Oh,  I  have  wandered  far, 

So  far  from  Thee. 
Yet  how  I  long  to  flee, 
Flee  from  my  sin  to  Thee; 
Open  Thy  arms  to  me, 

Mercy  I  cry. 

Now  let  Thy  precious  love 

Thrill  me  again, 
Forget  that  I  was  weak, 

Fell  into  sin. 
Jesus,  I  yearn  to  be 
Drawn  close  again  to  Thee, 
Clings  my  poor  heart  to  Thee, 

Save,  or  I  die. 

"  Nearer  my  God  to  Thee, 

Nearer  to  Thee," 
Weeping  I  seek  Thy  arms, 

Open  for  me. 

73 


74  LYRICS   OF   THE    WEST. 

Now  through  Thy  love  to  me 
My  life  I  yield  to  Thee, 
Oh,  I  '11  stay  close  to  Thee, 
Love  is  my  tie. 


WHY? 

THE  kiss  the  hungry  heart  so  craves 

May  be  withheld,  and  other  lips 
Be  pressed  to  ours.     Life's  cup  of  joy 

Is  only  filled  to  him  who  dips 
At  troubling  of  the  waters.     Come, 

Ye  white-winged  fairies,  hither  fly 
And  show  me  since  this  thing  be  true, 

The  secret  of  it — tell  me  why. 

Ah,  tell  me  why  the  cup  of  joy 

Is  empty  ere  we  learn  to  drink; 
Why  roses  wither  in  the  hand; 

Why  life  sits  on  death's  river  brink; 
But  most  of  all,  pray  tell  me  why 

The  blossoms  loved  are  out  of  reach, 
Like  far-off  worlds  of  which  we  dream, 

Who  '11  answer  why,  who  this  can  teach  ? 

Why  is  King  Love  so  blind  a  king  ? 

Why  is  the  Queen  of  Love  so  sad  ? 
One  kiss  Love  pressed  upon  her  lips, 

Enough  to  make  the  gods  go  mad ! 

75 


76  LYRICS  OF   THE    WEST, 

Is  love  the  fairest  thing  of  earth  ? 

The  purest  thing  in  earth  or  sky  ? 
Then  give  me  love,  I  humbly  plead, 

It  may  not  be — O  God !  then  why  ? 


DROP   A   TEAR   FOR   ME. 

SAID  a  youth  who  loved  a  maiden, 

"  Fairest  one,  you  bid  rne  go 
And  forget.  Ah,  then,  farewell,  love  ' ' ; 

Then  he  said  in  accents  low, 
"  Give  your  fairest  smiles  to  others 

Who  are  happy,  and  will  see; 
But  for  me,  my  heart  is  breaking, 

Drop  a  tear  for  me. 

"  When  you  sing,  ah,  happy  maiden, 

Angels  fair  bedight  your  song, 
When  you  smile  I  think  the  fairies 

Scatter  stars  your  path  along. 
I  had  hoped  to  tune  my  lyre 

To  your  notes  so  glad  and  free, 
Now  I  can  but  ask,  in  pity, 

Drop  a  tear  for  me." 

Said  a  beautiful  young  daisy, 
As  she  bloomed  amid  the  grass, 

"  I  will  tell  a  tale  of  gladness 
To  the  weary  ones  who  pass/* 

77 


78  LYRICS  OF   THE    WEST. 

But  a  wrong,  a  wayward  footstep, 
Crushed  her  life  so  fair  to  see, 

With  her  tale  untold  she  murmured, 
"  Drop  a  tear  for  me." 

Said  a  maiden  who  had  wandered 

Far  from  home  and  love  and  right, 
And  was  groping  in  the  darkness, 

Where  was  not  one  ray  of  light, 
"  If  I  could  forget — oh,  pity, 

Cursed  with  sin  and  memory, 
If  I  could  forget!     O  fair  one, 

Drop  a  tear  for  me." 

Said  a  bent  old  man  who  trembled, 

As  he  stood  behind  the  bars, 
Gazing  upward  to  the  heavens, 

Counting  one  by  one  the  stars, 
"  All  my  life  did  sin  pursue  me, 

From  his  clutch  I  ne'er  was  free, 
I  have  struggled — don't  condemn,  but 

Drop  a  tear  for  me." 

We  are  told  to  scatter  roses, 
Told  to  laugh  and  sing,  be  gay; 


DROP  A    TEAR  FOR  ME.  79 

Told  the  world  has  need  of  gladness, 
But  no  need  of  tears,  they  say. 

Yet  there  is  no  heart  so  joyous, 
Not  a  life  so  glad  and  free, 

But  some  day  will  sadly  murmur, 
"  Drop  a  tear  for  me." 

There  's  no  wayward  one  so  sinful, 

But  that  mercy  should  be  given, 
Smiles  are  lost  sometimes,  but  ever 

To  the  heart  our  tears  are  driven. 
Let  us  gather  up  the  tear-drops 

That  have  fallen  by  the  way, 
They  as  gems  shall  sparkle  ever, 

In  the  land  of  perfect  day. 


GONE   BEFORE. 

[Lines  on  the  death  of  Miss  Nellie  Bixler,  who  died  at 
Lyons,  Kansas,  August  5,  1896.] 

"  For  me  to  live  is  Christ,  and  to  die  is  gain." — 

Philippians,  i.,  21. 

WE  have  seen  a  life  of  beauty, 

Fairer  than  the  sweetest  flower, 
Gently  pass  beyond  our  vision, 

Leaving,  like  a  summer  shower, 
Brighter  sunshine,  greater  beauty, 

While  we  gaze  through  tears  of  pain, 
On  the  perfect  life  now  vanished, 

Yet,  ere  long  we  '11  meet  again. 

Still  she  points  the  way  to  heaven, 

Gentle  maiden,  pure  and  fair, 
Queen  of  all  the  holy  graces, 

Patient,  knowing  not  despair; 
And  she  passed  beyond  the  shadow, 

Into  pure  and  perfect  day, 
And  her  holy  life  allures  us 

To  her  home  not  far  away. 
80 


GONE  BEFORE.  8 1 

Yes,  we  weep,  but  she  forbids  us; 

Queenly  Nell,  so  young  and  true, 
Stands  beside  the  great  white  throne,  and 

Beckons,  friends,  to  me  and  you. 
And  her  voice  in  sweetest  music, 

Sings  to  us  from  heaven's  shore, 
"  When  the  trump  of  God  has  sounded, 

We  shall  meet  to  part  no  more. ' ' 

6 


BALLAD  OF  FAITH  AND  LOVE. 

I  DO  not  know  what  love  may  be, 

Could  I  define  the  gift  so  rare, 
I  think  e'en  then  ye  could  not  see 

Love's  beauty  all,  so  I  forbear. 
I  cannot  tell  how  man  may  dare 

To  seek  the  Father  at  His  throne, 
Yet  something  seems  to  whisper  there, 

The  heart  of  God  is  love  alone. 

But  this  I  know,  the  winds  blow  free, 

And  songs  of  beauty  kiss  the  air, 
And  sweet  birds  sing  their  songs  of  glee, 

And  flowers  bloom,  yea,  everywhere. 
And  so,  you  see,  I  've  learned  to  wear 

The  wreath  of  faith ;  to  me  is  shown 
That  God  is  love — this  can  ye  bear  ? 

The  heart  of  God  is  love  alone. 

Out  on  life's  great  blue  surging  sea 
We  gaily  sail  while  skies  are  fair, 

82 


BALLAD   OF  FAITH  AND  LOVE,  83 

Ah,  who  shall  pilot  to  the  lee 

Our  vessel  ? — storms  rise  unaware. 

A  friend's  best  love  may  prove  a  snare, 
The  heart  grows  faint,  and  yet  unknown, 

He  leads  whose  wondrous  works  declare 
The  heart  of  God  is  love  alone. 

ENVOY. 

I  sing  of  faith,  and  love,  and  prayer, 
O  Father,  may  Thy  love  be  known 

To  all  the  world — this  be  my  care — 
The  heart  of  God  is  love  alone. 


UNKIND  WORDS. 

THE  words  that  thrilled  with  sweetest  joy, 
We  may  sometimes  forget.     In  vain 

We  struggle  to  forget  those  words 
That  pierced  our  hearts  with  pain. 


84 


ROSE   OR  THORN? 

[Quoted  lines  are   from  Harbaugh's   "The  Rose  in   the 
Heart."] 

"  THE  roses  of  earth,  let  them  wither  and  fade, 
And  away  in  the  shroudlets  of  winter  be  laid, 
For  memory's  ringers,  unaided  by  art, 
Have  planted  a  rose  in  the  depth  of  the  heart." 

41  It  may  be  a  love  that  was  brief  as  a  day," 
Whose  memory  rises  to  madness!     Ah,  pray 
The  kiss  of  forgetfulness,  let  it  impart 
Sweet  balm  to  the  wounds  of  the  thorn  in  the 
heart. 

"  It  may  be  a  song  that  has  flitted  away," 
We  hear  the  sweet  echo,  remember  the  lay, 
And  treasure  the  voices  that  speak  to  impart 
New  life  to  the  withering  rose  in  the  heart. 

"  It  may  be  a  kiss — even  kisses  depart," 
My  God!  dost  Thou  call  this  "  the  rose  in  the 
heart?" 

85 


86  LYRICS  OF   THE    WEST. 

Ah,   who    would    remember    love's    kisses    now 

dead? 
The    rose    long    has   withered,   the   thorn   lives 

instead. 

"  It  may  be  a  kiss  " — oh,  the  depth  of  the  pain 
In  the  heart  that  remembers  love's  kisses  in  vain, 
And  memory,  weeping,  yet  struggles  to  prove, 
Though  lost  in  the  darkness,  the  dream  was  true 
love. 

The  springtime,  the  day  of  the  roses — fair  morn, 
The  autumn  reveals  the  dead  leaves  and  the  thorn ; 
Sing  memory's  praises,  yes,  sing  ye  who  will, 
I  'd  sleep  in  the  arms  of  forgetfulness  still. 


THE  CHILD  AMONG  THE  FLOWERS. 

LONG  ago,  't  was  in  the  springtime, 

I  espied  a  child  so  sweet, 
Kneeling  like  a  little  fairy 

'Mongst  the  flowers  at  his  feet. 
Long  he  sat  there,  seemed  to  listen 

To  the  voices  glad  and  gay, 
That,  were  wafted  from  the  flowers, 

To  the  child  about  his  play. 

And  I  listened,  heard  the  baby 

Kiss  the  rose  in  tenderness, 
Then  I  saw  the  bud  unfolding, 

Him  to  bless  with  loveliness  ; 
Heard  the  prattling  infant  murmur, 

"  Why  art  thou  so  sweet  and  fair, 
Gentle  blossom,  that  thy  beauty 

Is  remembered  everywhere  ?  " 

Said  the  rose,  "  My  little  lover, 
From  the  hand  of  God  I  came; 

Should  I  die  and  be  forgotten, 
I  should  cause  my  Maker  shame. 

87 


88  LYRICS  OF  THE  WEST. 

You  have  eyes  to  see  my  beauty, 
Ears  have  you  to  hear  my  voice ; 

If  you  'd  live  and  live  forever, 
Oh,  be  good,  be  glad,  rejoice. 

"  If  I  heeded  darkness  dreary, 

If  I  heard  what  people  say, 
I  would  droop  and  die,  my  lover, 

All  my  sweet  would  pass  away. 
But  I  save  my  choicest  perfume 

For  the  kisses  of  the  sun, 
And  he  smiles  upon  me  gently 

All  the  day,  my  little  one. 

' '  Well  I  know  if  springtime  showers, 

Fall  upon  and  wet  my  face, 
He  will  kiss  away  my  tear-drops, 

And  his  touch  my  beauty  grace. 
When  he  hides  from  me  I  'm  sleepy 

And  I  nod  my  pretty  head, 
If  he  leaves  me  long  I  slumber, 

Then  they  tell  you  I  am  dead. 

"  Now  so  many  things  I  've  told  you, 
Yet  another  word  I  'd  say, — 


THE   CHILD  AMONG   THE  FLOWERS.       89 

If  you  would  be  great  and  noble, 
Learn  to  love  and  learn  to  pray. 

If  your  prayers  and  love  are  fruitful, 
You  must  noble  be  and  great; 

Seek  the  light  and  bathe  in  sunshine, 
This  the  key  to  golden  gate." 

Then  the  whisper  ceased,  I  listened, 

But  the  child  made  no  reply; 
Soon  I  heard  the  twilight  echoes, 

Stars  appeared  within  the  sky. 
I  had  been  asleep,  and  dreaming, 

Had  I  sat  for  many  hours, 
When  I  found  my  baby  sleeping 

'Mongst  the  fragrant,  dreaming  flowers. 


I   MISS   YOU   FROM   OUR   LITTLE 
TRUNDLE-BED. 

THEY  have  laid  you,  little  brother, 

In  a  little  casket  white, 
In  a  room  so  cold  and  silent, 

And  I  'm  all  alone  to-night. 
Mamma  knows  I  want  you,  brother, 

In  our  little  trundle-bed, 
Oh,  I  cannot  sleep  without  you, 

And  they  tell  me  you  are  dead. 

But  I  think  you  're  with  the  angels, 

Mamma  says  you  've  gone  to  heav'n. 
Do  you  miss  me,  little  brother, 

'Mong  the  boys  up  there  in  heaven  ? 
Do  they  love  you  as  I  love  you  ? 

Can  they  see  me  when  I  cry  ? 
I  don't  know  why  they  should  leave  me 

When  they  took  you  to  the  sky. 

Oh,  I  wish  that  I  could  hear  you 
When  you  sing  up  there  to-night, 
90 


I  MISS  YOU  FROM  OUR  TRUNDLE-BED.     9! 

And   could  see  you — mamma  says  you 
Wear  a  crown  that  's  shining  bright. 

If  your  soul  is  up  in  heaven, 
Then  I  'm  sure  you  are  not  dead; 

But  we  '11  sleep  no  more  together 
In  our  little  trundle-bed. 


I  am  thinking  of  last  Christmas, 

How  you  called  me  in  the  night, 
Whispered,  "  Brother,  let  us  waken, 

If  we  can,  before  daylight.'* 
When  the  morning  came  you  wakened 

Just  before  I  did,  and  said  : 
"  Brother,  see!  our  Christmas  presents 

On  our  little  trundle-bed." 

And  't  is  Christmas  in  the  morning, 

And  I  guess  you  're  glad  in  heaven, 
Hope  that  Santa  has  forgotten, 

And  no  presents  shall  be  given 
Just  to  me,  for  there  's  no  pleasure 

In  a  story-book  and  sled, 
For  I  '11  miss  you  in  the  morning 

From  our  little  trundle-bed. 


92  LYRICS  OF   THE  WEST. 

Just  a  week  ago  to-night,  when 

We  had  knelt  and  said  our  prayers, 
I  remember  how  you  whispered, 

"  There  are  angels  on  the  stairs." 
And  I  cried,  for  I  was  frightened, 

But  you  held  me  close  and  tight, 
Then  I  slept  and  dreamed  of  heaven, 

And  the  angels  came  that  night. 

When  the  morning  came  I  missed  you, 

Papa  rocked  you  by  the  fire, 
Mamma  cried — we  heard  the  angels 

Coming  nigher,  nigher,  nigher. 
Now  you  're  with  them  and  I  'm  lonely, 

But  to-night  our  mamma  said, 
That  you  '11  come  back  with  the  angels 

To  our  little  trundle-bed. 


WHERE   SONGS   ABOUND. 

IN  hearts  where  the  sunlight  scarce  enters,  where 

darkness 

And  sorrow  and  sadness  and  weeping  are  there, 
Where  poverty  pinches,  and  kindness  is  wanting, 
The  finger  of   God  plants  a  song   bright    and 
fair. 

The  birth  of  the  kind  thought  that  yearned  to  be 

spoken, 

The  tear-drop  that  fell  in  the  dark  of  the  night, 
The   hunger    and    thirst    for    the    true    light   of 

heaven, 
Are  poems  of  beauty,  of  sweetness  and  light. 

And  some  sing  their  songs  to  the  glad  world,  and 

others 

Sing  low  to  a  heart  in  its  anguish  and  pain ; 
Some  gather  the  roses  that  bloom  in  the  garden, 
And  some  dare  not  pluck  the  wild  rose  of  the 
plain. 

93 


94  LYRICS  OF   THE  WEST. 

But,    O   weary   heart,    do   not   faint  —  songs   are 

sweetest 
When   born  at  the   breath  of  the  wild  winds, 

maybe, 

The  beautiful  bird  in  a  gold  cage  sings  sweetly, 
Yet  swift  flies  the  bird  of  the  wild  prairie  sea. 

I  know  in  each  heart  lies  a  gem  of  great  beauty, 
The  sweetest  of  songs  have  been  sung  all  unheard, 

And  poems  have  lived  in  the   heart  where  was 

hidden 
Forever  in  darkness  each  beautiful  word. 

I  know  that  the  light  of  a  golden  forever 

Shall   burnish  the  gold  that  's  now  hidden  in 
dross ; 

I  know  there  is  joy  beyond  Time's  darksome  river, 
O  patient  one,  weary  one,  cling  to  the  Cross! 


THE   LAST   WORDS   OF   MOTHER. 

THE  last  words  of  mother  when  I  left  the  farm— 
A  bright,  happy  boy,  never  dreaming  of  harm — 
She  wept,  and  she  left  her  sweet  kiss  on  my  face, 
While  looking  to  God,  in  the  parting,  for  grace, 
And  then  as  I  galloped  away  she  called,  "  Roy," 
I  turned  in  my  saddle — "  God  bless  you,  my  boy." 

The  years  quickly  vanished,  I  wandered  afar, 
Grew  reckless  and  weary,  it  seemed  every  star 
Was  blotted  from  heaven,  so  dark  was  my  night, 
So  cruel  my  fate,  when,  at  last,  shone  a  light 
In  the  heart  that  sin's  curse  had  long  sought  to 

destroy, — 
The  last  words  of  mother,   "  God  bless  you,  my 

boy." 

The   waves   rolled  between  us,    I  ne'er  saw  her 

more, 

And  yet  as  I  *d  done  in  the  sweet  days  of  yore, 
I  sat  in  the  twilight  and  sang  mother's  songs, 
And  wept  bitter  tears  o'er  the  past  and  its  wrongs. 
95 


96  LYRICS   OF    THE   WEST. 

When  others  have  cursed  me  these  words  gave  me 

joy— 

The  last  words  of  mother,  "  God  bless  you,  my 
boy." 

Methinks  in  the  light  of  that  beautiful  home, 
When  toiling  is  over,  no  longer  to  roam, 
The  words  that  recalled  me  from  sin  and  its  charm, 
When  I  went  a-roaming  and  left  the  old  farm, 
When  mother  shall  greet  me,  perchance,  then  in  joy 
She  '11  murmur  these  loved  words,  "  God  bless  you, 
my  boy." 


COULD  YOU   BUT   KNOW. 

COULD  you  but  know,  my  dearest  one, 

I  watch  and  wait  for  you, 
When  morning  sunlight  sheds  its  gleam, 

When  evening  skies  are  blue; 
And  could  you  know  how  faint  my  heart, 

How  long  and  lone  the  day, 
And  how  I  prize  your  coming,  dear, 

You  would  not  stay  away. 

But  time  goes  on,  a  year  has  flown, 

Yet  hope,  my  guiding  star, 
Still  counts  the  days  through  blinding  tears, 

And  calls  you  from  afar. 
Could  you  but  know  how  true  my  heart, 

How  firm  my  trust  alway, 
And  how  I  love  you,  love  you,  dear, 

You  would  not  stay  away. 


97 


OUR   BLESSINGS. 

WHEN  the  morning  sun  in  splendor 

Rises  gently  to  its  height, 
And  the  beauty  of  the  morning 

Giveth  greeting  after  night; 
While  the  bees  are  sipping  honey 

From  the  early  blooming  flowers, 
Then  it  is  we  count  our  blessings, 

Through  the  bright  and  happy  hours. 

Some  have  wealth,  and  golden  roses 

Seem  to  bloom  along  their  way; 
Others  wear  the  shining  laurels 

Fame  can  give  in  life's  short  day. 
Some  have  faces  clothed  in  beauty, 

Some  have  lovers  brave  and  true, 
Some  have  friends  that  seem  so  many 

As  the  stars  in  heaven's  blue. 

All  of  these  recount  their  blessings, 
While  I  kneel  to  God  in  prayer, 


OUR  BLESSINGS.  99 

And  I  praise  Him  for  the  jewels 

He  has  trusted  to  my  care. 
I  have  naught  of  wealth  or  leisure, 

Though,  perchance,  I  may  have  friends, 
And  methinks  the  smiles  of  angels 

On  my  home  the  Father  sends. 

When  I  see  my  first-born  kneeling 

By  his  snowy  cot  to  pray, 
When  the  night  shades  hover  o'er  us 

At  the  closing  of  the  day  ; 
When  my  little  girl  is  singing 

Like  the  birds  with  song  to  bless, 
And  my  baby's  laugh  is  ringing, 

I  have  all  of  happiness. 

Then  there  's  one — I  'd  not  forget  him, 

With  his  eyes  of  tender  blue — 
Whispers,  while  I  kiss  his  tresses, 

"  Mamma,  but  I  do  love  you." 
While  the  days  are  going  onward, 

Some  may  laugh  and  others  pray, 
But  we  all  may  count  our  blessings 

And  rejoice  the  darkest  day. 


WHEN   I   SEE  THE   CHILDREN   COMING 
HOME   FROM   SCHOOL. 

WHEN  I  see  the  children  coming  home  from  school, 
Gaily  singing  when  at  last  they  're  free  from  rule, 

In  their  joy  I  have  a  share, 

For  it  rolls  away  my  care, 
Just  to  see  the  children  coming  home  from  school. 

With  their  dinner-buckets  swinging  at  their  side, 
Hear  them  shout  as  o'er  the  icy  ground  they  glide; 

Home,  they  greet  me  with  a  kiss, 

And  this  thought  is  born  in  bliss, 
To  a  mother,  God  no  blessing  has  denied. 

There  's  a  note  of  sadness  in  my  song  to-day, 
For  I  've  seen  beyond  the  present  far  away; 
Oh,  my  heart,  how  shall  it  be, 
When  my  children  go  from  me  ? 
Will  my  heart  ache  ?  yet  they  've  taught  me  how  to 
pray. 

100 


COMING  HOME  FROM  SCHOOL.  IOI 

When  I  see  the  children  coming  home  from  school, 
I  must  wreathe  my  face  in  smiles,  for  't  is  my  rule 

To  be  happy,  bright,  and  gay, 

Ere  the  dear  ones  go  away, 
And  no  more  I  see  them  coming  home  from  school. 


HER   LAST   FAREWELL. 

MY  dear,  I  've  much  to  say  to  thee, 

Come  sit  thee  by  my  bed 
And  gaze  upon  me,  loved  one — lay 

Thy  hand  upon  my  head; 
And  let  thine  eyes  in  tenderness, 

In  gentle  beauty  shine 
Upon  my  face,  and  do  not  heed 

The  dimness  now  in  mine. 

The  peaceful  morning  gives  to  me 

A  spirit  of  unrest, 
Oh,  take  me  to  thine  arms,  my  dear, 

And  fold  me  to  thy  breast. 
The  singing  of  the  joyful  birds 

Is  very  sad  to  me  ; 
To-morrow  morning  when  they  sing 

I  shall  have  gone  from  thee. 

The  parting  time  has  come,  and  I 
Have  loved  thee  true  and  well, 
102 


HER  LAST  FAREWELL.  103 

And  when  I  'm  gone  them  'It  sometimes  come 

And  wander  in  the  dell 
Where  I  'm  at  rest,  and  kneel  beside 

Me  as  I  'm  sleeping  there, 
And  promise  thou  wilt  meet  me  in 

The  home  so  bright  and  fair. 

It  seems  again  I  'm  in  the  past, 

My  love,  I  'm  at  thy  side — 
A  blushing  girl — thy  whispered  words 

Have  made  of  me  thy  bride. 
And  thou  art  smiling  as  in  youth, 

Oh,  thou  art  glad  and  gay, 
The  years  that  intervene  since  then 

Have  vanished  for  to-day. 

How  cheerily  we  ventured  out 

Upon  the  sea  of  life, 
My  hand  in  thine,  my  husband,  and 

The  name  you  called  me — wife. 
We  planted  flowers  at  the  door 

Of  our  first  humble  home  ; 
I  cannot  say  good-bye  just  now, 

In  youth's  glad  days  I  roam. 


104  LYRICS   OF  THE    WEST. 

Canst  thou  forget,  my  love,  when  first 

A  tiny  babe  was  given  ? 
Thy  kisses  rained  upon  my  brow, 

And  then  I  dreamed  of  heaven. 
One  morn  when  I  was  fast  asleep, 

Thy  hands  placed  on  my  breast 
The  first  sweet  flowers  that  bloomed  for  us, 

And  now,  when  I  'm  at  rest 

Again  upon  my  bosom  thou 

Wilt  place  the  fragrant  flowers, 
And  dream  a  little  while,  perchance, 

Of  joys  that  have  been  ours. 
Thou  'It  press  thy  warm,  red  lips  to  mine, 

I  shall  not  know  thy  touch. 
My  God !  this  parting  tells  me  that 

I  've  loved  thee  overmuch. 

And  when  they  take  me  from  thee,  and 

They  lay  me  'neath  the  sod, 
Don't  think  of  me  as  lost  to  thee, 

But  know  that  I  'm  with  God. 
And  oh,  I  plead,  do  not  forget 

When  trials  pass  thy  way, 


HER  LAST  FAREWELL.  105 

That  with  my  latest  breath  for  strength 
To  conquer  them  I  pray. 

Press  on,  my  dearest  husband,  just 

A  little  way  beyond 
Thou  'It  see  the  light  of  heaven  that 

For  me  has  almost  dawned. 
I  *m  going — hold  me  closer — as 

I  love  thee  none  can  tell ; 
Just  one  kiss  more — God  bless  thee!  meet 

Me  over  there — farewell. 


LOVE'S   DREAM. 

As  the  flowers  come  in  Springtime, 

Came  love's  dream  to  me,  and  light 
As  the  touch  of  fairy  fingers, 

Was  love's  step  that  starry  night. 
Long  I  revelled  in  the  sunshine 

Of  his  bright,  love-laden  eyes, 
Then  my  dream  of  love  had  vanished 

Like  the  jewels  in  the  skies. 

Is  the  dream  in  all  its  sweetness 

Ended,  and  for  aye  ? — pray  tell, 
Ye  who  love  and  hope  in  heaven, 

Ye  who  say  good-bye — ah,  well, 
This  Old  Time  cannot  take  from  me: 

Voices  sweet  and  soft  and  low, 
And  the  spirit  form  so  near  me, 

Breathes  a  prayer  I  fain  would  know. 

He  has  held  me  to  his  bosom, 
I  have  felt  his  thrilling  kiss, 
106 


LOVE'S  DREAM.  1 07 

And  together  in  love's  sweetness, 

We  have  melted  into  bliss. 
We  have  parted,  yet  in  seeming 

Would  our  spirits  fan  the  blue, 
In  the  poetry  of  loving, 

Knowing  well  each  heart  is  true. 

Tell  me  not  love's  dream  is  over, 

Can  the  bounding  spirit  feel  ? 
See !  the  bar  is  in  the  fire, 

And  the  fire  is  in  the  steel. 
So  the  heart  is  like  a  casket, 

He  who  placed  a  jewel  there, 
Will  forget  or  be  forgotten, 

Not  while  cloudless  skies  are  fair. 


TO   A   FRIEND. 

You  write  sweet  verses,  I  write  verses,  too ; 
We  ne'er  have  met,  nor  have  you  been  a  guest 
In  homes  where  I  am  known.     Yet,  dearest,  best, 

Of  all  my  friends,  my  heart  is  holding  you — 

And  why  ?     How  do  I  know  your  friendship  true  ? 
"  Like  partners  in  a  dance,"  you  said — the  test 
Lies  in  those  words,  my  friend — I  leave  the  rest. 

"  Like  partners  in  a  dance,"  ah,  then,  we  two, 

As  in  a  dizzy  waltz,  go  on  and  on, 

Our  steps  the  rhythm  and  our  souls  the  rhyme. 

What  tho'  you  sing  a  song  more  glad,  more  sweet 

Than  any  lay  of  mine  ?     Perchance  I  've  drawn 
Some  strains  from  out  my  lyre  in  truer  time, 

As  in  the  dance,  I  lean  on  you — 't  is  meet. 


108 


I  WANT   TO   BE   GOOD. 

"  I  WANT  to  be  good,"  the  little  one  said, 
As  he  nestled  his  head  on  his  mother's  breast. 

And  wept  o'er  the  wee  little  sins  of  the  day, 
"  I  want  to  be  good,"  and  he  sank  to  rest. 

"  I  want  to  be  good,"  said  a  fair  young  girl 
Who  had  all  of  life's  joys  and  none  of  its  woes, 

And  with  never  a  dream  what  the  wish  might  mean, 
She  pinned  on  her  bosom  a  pure  white  rose. 

"  I  want  to  be  good,"  cried  an  aching  heart, 
"  But,  oh,  I  've  no  strength  in  the  storms  of  life  ; 

I  've  tried,  I  have  struggled,  and  yet  I  have  sinned, 
And  my  ship  goes  down  'mid  the  battle's  strife." 

Ah,  list  to  the  voice  that  speaks  in  each  heart, 
In  the  heaven-kissed  hours  of  solitude, 

The  life  may  be  evil,  and  yet,  maybe, 
Even  so — to  be  good  is  the  spirit's  mood. 


109 


TWILIGHT   MUSINGS. 

SOMETIMES  when  day  is  done  I  love  to  sit 

And  ponder  o'er  the  past,  and  idly  dream, 
To  listen  to  the  spirit  words  that  flit 

On  wings  of  love  thro'  heart  and  brain,  and  seem 
To  give  me  back  my  olden  joys — aye,  more, 

They  give  me  back  myself  as  in  the  past, 
My  dearest  self  e'en  as  I  was  before 

I  'd  "  supped  with  sorrow  " — would  those  dreams 
might  last! 

But,  no,  they  tarry  not  with  me,  nor  bless, 

Because  they  leave  my  heart  so  lone  and  sad, 
They  mock  me  with  my  vanished  happiness, 

They  fill  with  tears  my  eyes  once  bright  and  glad ; 
They  wring  my  heart  with  longings  for  lost  youth, 

Then  thrill  me  with  a  touch  almost  divine, 
They  give  me  back  my  love,  my  grace,  in  truth 

Once  more  the  thrill  of  passion's  kiss  is  mine. 

And  then  I  consecrate,  with  newer  zeal, 
To  this  the  past,  the  radiant  past,  the  hours 
no 


TWILIGHT  MUSINGS.  1 1 1 

When  love  illumed  the  eye,  the  heart  could  feel 
The  joyful  carol  of  the  birds;  when  flowers 

Seemed  not  to  die,  so  quick  they  bloomed  anew. 
I  give  to  thee,  O  golden  past,  my  tears, 

My  memories,  my  fairer  self,  and  true 
To  those  thou  gavest  me — all,  all  my  years. 


YOU   WILL   FORGET. 

You  will  forget — ah,  love,  I  surely  know 
This  painful  silence  as  love's  deadliest  foe; 

Not  so  with  me — think  you  I  could  forget  ? 

This  silence  tears  me,  and  my  soul  doth  fret, 
My  longings  drive  me  mad,  e'en  to  bestow, 
As  in  the  past,  one  kiss,  one  whispered  low 
"  I  love  you  "  ;  but  the  years  will  come  and  go, 

And  I  shall  bless  the  hour  in  which  we  met — 
You  will  forget. 

I  do  not  blame,  I  know  it  must  be  so; 

I  loved  thee  well,  with  thee  't  was  passion's  glow. 
Ofttimes  when  all  alone  my  lids  are  wet, 
Oh,  just  to  be  remembered,  love,  and  yet 

I  shall  remember  and  be  true — I  know 
You  will  forget. 


112 


SYMPATHY. 

I  WENT  to  the  house  of  mourning, 

And  knelt  with  the  mourners  in  prayer, 
And  all  thro*  the  house  there  was  weeping, 

So  tender  were  all  who  were  there. 
And  I  thought  how  the  blessed  Redeemer 

Took  note  of  each  tear-drop  that  fell, 
And  I  knew  if  my  own  home  were  saddened, 

I,  too,  would  be  mourned  long  and  well. 

But  standing  apart  from  the  others 

Was  one  who  had  sorrow  so  deep, 
That  almost  she  envied  the  dear  one 

Who  lay  in  such  peace  there  asleep. 
And  I  waited — no  word  said  to  cheer  her, 

Tho'  she  'd  borne  her  great  burden  for  years, 
Not  a  tear  shed  for  her — all  were  weeping, 

And,  perchance,  saw  her  not  for  their  tears. 


113 


ONLY  BE   TRUE. 

FRIEND,  thou  art  tempted  and  weary, 

Yet  in  the  conflict,  I  pray, 
Hope  in  her  arms  shall  enfold  thee, 

Love,  faith,  and  trust  bide  the  day. 
E'en  now  't  is  dawn  of  the  morning, 

Light  gleams  across  heaven's  blue, 
Fling  to  the  breeze  the  white  banner, 

Weary  one,  only  be  true. 

True  to  the  best  that  is  in  thee, 

True  to  the  right,  friend,  alway, 
So  shalt  thou  drink  drops  of  mercy — 

Heavenly  nectar — yet  stay, 
Hear  me  once  more,  I  entreat  thee, 

Ere  I  shall  bid  thee  adieu; 
Look  whence  the  morning  light  corneth, 

Look,  and  forever  be  true. 


114 


MY   FRIENDS. 

THE  world  is  like  a  cold  midwinter  day, 
And  in  it,  like  the  beggar  at  the  door, 

Ofttimes  with  hungry  hearts  we  turn  away, 
For  there  is  no  admittance.  Yet  before 
We  turn  to  go,  hope  bids  us  knock  once  more, 

The  cold  winds  pierce  our  frame — we  wait,  our 
prayers 

Are  all  unheard — alas,  nobody  cares. 

I  've  read  a  book — you  've  read  it,  too,  I  ween, 
And  you,  like  me,  sat  poring  o'er  the  tale 

And  weeping.     Yet,  a  sadder  thing  I  've  seen — 
A  slowly  breaking  heart,  a  face  grown  pale — 
I  guess  the  secret  pain,  and  yet  I  fail 

In  sympathy,  the  thing  is  all  too  real. 

I  wonder  what  it  is  we  mortals  feel  ? 

And  so  I  value  not  the  world's  applause, 

To-day  't  would  bless,  to-morrow  let  me  die; 

And  yet  I  love  to  plead  true  friendship's  cause, 
I  'd  wave  her  starry  banners  to  the  sky — 
No  warmer  heart  hast  thou,  my  friend,  than  I — 

And  into  faithful  lives  the  Father  sends, 

With  all  things  needful,  good  and  honest  friends. 


FRIENDSHIP   ONLY. 

YES,  we  are  only  friends,  but  dear  the  tie 
That  binds  our  very  souls;  and  it  is  best 
For  you,  my  friend,  and  best  for  me  to  rest 

In  this  sweet  peace,  nor  wake  at  last  to  sigh 
For  sweeter  chords  to  bind  our  hearts  in  one — 

A  closer  tie — ah,  dear,  the  hope  is  vain, 

Your  path  lies  yonder,  mine  is  here.  In  vain 
And  sore  at  heart,  we  'd  wish  the  chords  undone. 

I  know  your  heart  could  answer  mine;  I  own 
The  sweet  response  that  echoes  in  my  soul, 
And  oft  I  would  that  I  might  give  the  whole 

Of  this  great  throbbing  heart  to  you  alone. 

I  know  your  kiss  would  wake  the  sleeping  fires 

That  in  my  bosom  burn,  but  then,  I  say, 

'T  is  best  for  you  and  best  for  me  alway, 
To  be  as  friends — friendship  hath  no  desires. 


116 


A   REVERIE. 

ALMOST  the  time  has  come  for  us  to  part — 
Myself  and  my  blest  Youth — and  in  my  heart 
A  secret  pain  lies  hidden,  for  I  know 
'T  is  vain  to  cling,  as  well  to  bid  her  go; 
And  yet  I  hold  her  fast,  so  fast  in  dread 
Of  waking  from  my  dreams  to  find  her  fled. 
Thus  far  we  've  walked  together  hand  in  hand, 
So  kind,  so  gentle,  can  she  understand 
That  one  so  fair  must  dwell  among  the  flowers, 
While  I  go  forth  to  wrestle  weary  hours, 
Yea,  weary  years  instead,  where  darkness  dwells  ? 
Her  laughing  eyes,  her  smiling  face  foretells 
She  knows  it  not.     And  yet  I  know  it  well 
That  soon  Old  Time  shall  ring  the  passing-bell, 
And  Youth  and  I  will  part — she  will  not  die, 
But  leave  me,  leave  me!  oh,  I  '11  say  good-by, 
And  face  the  storms  she  will  not  brave  with  me, 
And  struggle  to  forget.     But  then,  maybe, 
When  I  have  learned  contentment  at  the  last, 
I  '11  hear  her  voice  as  in  the  dear,  sweet  past; 
117 


Il8  LYRICS  OF   THE    WEST. 

It  may  be  she  will  waft  to  me  a  kiss, 

Remembering  the  past  and  all  its  bliss. 

And  then  together  for  the  happy  time, 

Our  steps  in  rhythm  and  our  souls  in  rhyme, 

We  '11  wander  forth  once  more,  forgetting  all, 

How  I  am  bent  and  gray,  she  young  and  small 

Like  fairy  elf;  and  yet,  my  God !  to-day 

I  hold  her  fast — my  hair  it  is  not  gray, 

My  eyes  still  hold  their  light,  my  heart  is  warm, 

How  can  I  kiss  her  lips  and  face  the  storm, 

And  know  that  we  no  more  shall  meet  ? — stay,  stay, 

Fair  Youth,  oh,  leave  me  not,  I  plead,  I  pray — 

My  God!  the  hour  has  come,  and  we  must  part! 

So  soon  ?     Yes,  yes;  it  tears  my  heart! 

Come,  glue  thy  lips  to  mine,  sweet  one;  in  truth 

I  'd  give  my  life  to  spare  thee  this,  O  Youth. 


MY   TRUST. 

I  KNELT  alone  with  God  one  day, 

I  felt  my  heart  at  once  rebel, 
Oh,  could  I  trust  and  could  I  pray. 

When  first  I  must  repent  ?     I  fell 
From  heaven  to  a  demon's  hell 

While  there  I  struggled,  yet  I  must 
Tear  from  my  heart  my  idol — well, 

I  seemed  to  hear  a  voice  say,  "  Trust." 

Dost  Thou  require  me,  Lord,  to  lay 

Upon  Thine  altar  all  ?     Oh,  tell 
Me  not  this  is  Thy  will — nay,  nay, 

For  want  of  courage  do  I  sell 
My  soul  to  darkness  ? — break  this  spell 

That  holds  my  heart  in  evil !     Dost 
Thou  pity  when  sin  hath  befell  ? 

I  seemed  to  hear  a  voice  say,  "  Trust." 

Then  all  at  once,  I  cannot  say 

What  't  was  that  seemed  my  doubts  to  quell. 
119 


I2O  LYRICS  OF   THE    WEST. 

I  yielded  all  my  soul,  that  day 
Low  at  the  feet  of  Christ  I  fell, 

And  knew  that  I  was  blest!     "  Farewell," 
I  cried,  and  saw  my  idols  dust, 

And  as  was  rung  the  passing-bell, 

I  seemed  to  hear  a  voice  say,  "  Trust." 

ENVOY. 

Blest  Saviour,  let  me  only  dwell 

Where  I  may  hear  Thy  voice.     And  dost 
Thou  save  me  from  my  sins  ? — 't  is  well, 

I  seemed  to  hear  a  voice  say,  "  Trust." 


THAT   SWEET,    SAD   WAY. 

I  HAVE  noticed  that  love  hath  changeful  ways, 

Sometimes  she  is  on  the  wing, 
And  happy  as  birds  on  summer  days, 

She  can  only  laugh  and  sing. 
But  then  it  is  true,  though  the  skies  are  blue, 

And  love  revels  in  delight, 
In  the  gladsome  song  some  discords  rise, 

Like  clouds  on  a  starlit  night. 

For  life  is  night  and  love  the  stars 

That  gladden  our  darkened  sky, 
And  even  a  note  of  joy  oft  mars 

A  dream  that  awakes  to  die. 
Then  gentle  and  sweet,  it  is  ever  meet 

That  love  should  be  glad  and  gay, 
But  passion  as  deep  as  the  ocean's  depth, 

I  see  in  that  sweet,  sad  way. 

The  bright  eyes  soft  with  the  unshed  tears, 
And  the  voice  so  kind  and  low, 
121 


122  LYRICS  OF   THE    WEST. 

'T  is  a  love  that  is  free  from  doubts  and  fears, 
'T  is  a  gift  from  God,  we  know. 

And  my  heart  is  glad,  and  my  heart  is  sad, 
And  I  sing  and  then  I  pray, 

Whenever  the  one  I  love  is  near, 
And  wearing  that  sweet,  sad  way. 


I   THINK  OF   THEE. 

I  THINK  of  thee,  my  own,  my  dear, 
My  heart  is  glad,  my  song  is  clear 
As  fairy  songs  that  wing  their  flight 
To  mystic  vales  all  clothed  in  light; 
And  when  I  dream,  thou  art  so  near, 
And  yet  so  far;  I  seem  to  hear 
Thy  tender  voice,  thy  words  of  cheer, 
One  face  doth  each  fair  dream  bedight, 
I  think  of  thee. 

I  sweetly  dream  and  know  no  fear, 
No  demon  forms  shall  dare  appear, 
To  wrest  from  me  those  visions  bright, 
Those  stolen  kisses — what  delight! 
Let  daylight  fade,  is  darkness  drear  ? 
I  think  of  thee. 


123 


TO  IRENE. 

OFTTIMES  I  wonder,  lady-bird,  Irene, 

Dost  thou  remember  still  that  summer  day 
When  first  we  met  ?    Ah,  yes,  I  think  alway 

Thy  heart  will  faithful  be.     My  gentle  queen, 

E'en  from  that  day  thy  face  no  more  I  've  seen, 
Yet  in  that  hour  ye  stole  my  heart  away, 
And  thinkest  thou,  Irene,  my  thought  could  stray? 

Could  oil  or  water,  dear  one,  come  between 

Our  welded  souls  ?     Ah,  no!  and  thou  art  mine! 
And  in  the  precious  locket  of  our  hearts 

Our  secret  hopes  lie  hidden — yet,  I  ween, 

E'en  tho'  the  love-light  in  thine  eye  doth  shine, 
At  thought  of  all  our  loneliness  oft  starts 

The  bitter  tear — is  't  so,  my  sweet  Irene  ? 


124 


TO-NIGHT. 

I  'M  tired  to-night, 

So  sing  me  soft  and  low 
Some  plaintive  little  song 

Of  long  ago. 

Or  read  to  me 

From  out  the  Book  of  Life, 
That  I  may  find  new  grace 

For  daily  strife. 

To-night  I  would 

That  I  could  put  away 
Those  memories  so  dear, 

Content  to  pray. 


125 


UNDER   THE   SMILE. 

You  look  on  my  face,  I  am  smiling, 

You  enter  my  home,  it  is  fair, 
And  you  say  that  the  gods  are  beguiling 

My  moments  to  happiness  there. 
Then  you  kiss  me,  oh,  sweetly  and  tender, 

And  your  kiss  may  be  free  from  art, 
But  you  heard  not  amid  this  splendor 

The  wail  of  my  breaking  heart. 

Into  homes  where  the  traces  of  hunger 

On  dear  little  faces  I  see, 
I  go  when  the  twilight  is  longer, 

To  carry  sweet  roses,  may  be. 
And  almost  do  those  mothers  despise  me, 

They  envy  my  happier  part, 
And  almost  do  I  fail  to  disguise  me, 

Almost  would  I  show  them  my  heart. 

There  are  mothers  in  plain  muslin  dresses, 
More  blest  than  was  ever  a  queen, 
126 


UNDER    THE   SMILE.  12  J 

And  they  finger  the  fair  golden  tresses 

Of  little  ones,  this  I  have  seen. 
In  her  ermine  and  delicate  laces, 

A  woman  bent  low  'neath  the  smart 
Of  pain,  while  she  hid  from  all  faces 

The  tale  of  the  woe  in  her  heart. 

So  I  laugh  and  I  sing,  and  in  seeming, 

I  'm  gay,  and  the  world  may  go  by, 
What  matter  while  others  are  dreaming, 

If  some  in  the  cold  grave  would  lie  ? 
We  kiss  when  we  greet  one  another, 

"  God  bless  you/'  we  say,  and  depart, 
While  we  pray  God  to  grant  we  may  smother 

The  wail  of  a  broken  heart. 


IF  I  WRITE. 

IF  I  write  the  noblest  essays 

That  have  bless'd  the  hearts  of  men  ; 
If  I  consecrate  my  whole  life 

To  the  mission  of  my  pen, 
I  can  yet  improve  my  writings, 

I  can  tear  up  or  erase, 
I  can  blot  out,  interline  it, 

And  for  losses  add  new  grace. 

If  I  chisel  in  the  marble 

With  a  firm  and  skilful  hand, 
If  I  wish  my  work  for  ages 

To  be  praised  o'er  all  the  land; 
If,  perchance,  I  might  deface  it, 

Though  I  toiled  with  earnest  care, 
I  can  carve  the  work  all  over, 

I  have  marble  I  can  spare. 

If  I  teach  a  noble  lesson 
To  a  precious  little  child, 
128 


IF  I  WRITE.  129 

I  have  written  it  forever, 

Though  he  pass  through  storms  most  wild. 
God  has  made  my  work  immortal, 

I  have  cut  it  not  in  stone, 
But  in  heart  of  flesh  I  wrote  it, 

Work  that  God  delights  to  own. 

Ah,  I  'd  love  to  be  a  writer, 

I  would  love  to  wear  Fame's  crown, 
I  would  love  to  hear  the  echo 

Of  the  far-off  world's  renown, 
But,  O  Father,  I  would  ask  Thee 

If  to  write  I  am  beguiled, 
Let  me  do  my  noblest  writing 

On  the  heart  of  someone's  child. 


THE   WHISTLING   BOY. 

MY  neighbor's  boy,  shoes  out  at  toes, 

Is  of  all  boys  most  truly  blest  ; 
He  heeds  not  though  the  north  wind  blows, 

This  boy  who  seeks  not  ease  and  rest; 
And  oft  I  've  to  my  heart  confessed, 

Though  whistling  may  some  souls  annoy, 
I  would  not  have  one  note  suppressed — 

How  well  I  love  thee,  whistling  boy  ! 

He  gaily  whistles,  yet,  who  knows 

If  'neath  that  ragged  coat  that  breast 
Is  burdened  with  the  weight  of  woes, 

When  daylight  darkens  in  the  west  ? 
For,  oh,  within  that  boy's  home  nest 

Is  sorrow,  want,  and  little  joy, 
Yet  still  he  whistles — hast  thou  guessed 

How  well  I  love  thee,  whistling  boy  ? 

We  all  may  learn  to  speak  in  prose, 
And  can  but  make  a  rhyme  at  best  ; 
130 


THE    WHISTLING  BOY.  131 

O'er  weary  hearts  we  plant  a  rose, 

And  call  on  angels  to  attest. 
But  who  like  thee,  my  little  guest, 

So  brave,  so  happy,  and  so  coy, 
Can  whistle  at  the  soul's  behest  ? 

How  well  I  love  thee,  whistling  boy  ! 

Methinks  if  angels  went  in  quest 

Of  whistling  boys,  they  'd  thee  employ. 

All  hearts  with  joy  thou  dost  revest, 
How  well  I  love  thee,  whistling  boy! 


SLEEP  SWEETLY. 

SLEEP  sweetly,  O  my  little  one, 

I  leave  thee  to  the  night, 
And  pray  that  angels  from  afar, 

Thy  dreaming  thoughts  bedight. 

Sleep  on,  sleep  on,  nor  wake  to  weep, 
That  we  shall  meet  no  more; 

The  angels  even  now  are  come, 
Are  knocking  at  the  door. 

My  little  one,  my  darling  one, 

I  go  to  be  at  rest, 
While  thou  art  sweetly  dreaming  in 

My  arms.     Ah,  if  't  were  best, 

I  would  thine  eyes  might  just  unclose 

One  moment  ere  I  go, 
To  bless  me  with  the  baby  love, 

That  's  written  there  I  know. 

But  sleep  on  now,  my  little  one, 
I  '11  go  ere  dawns  the  light 

Of  'morrow* s  sun.     God  keep  my  child- 
One  kiss — good-night,  good-night. 

132 


APART. 

THERE  may  be  those  who  can  forget, 

There  may  be  those  whose  love  can  die, 
And  other  loves  prove  sweet — and  yet, 

As  day  by  day  goes  by, 
I  dream  of  him  in  distant  lands, 

Whose  voice  I  ne'er  shall  hear  again, 
Nor  feel  the  touch  of  his  dear  hands, 

Nor  wake  from  tears  and  pain. 

But  this  I  know,  through  all  the  years 

That  are  to  come  I  '11  love  but  one; 
For  him  my  tenderness,  my  tears, 

Until  life's  race  is  run. 
He  heard  and  heeded  duty's  call, 

And,  oh,  amid  the  cold  world's  snares, 
I  sent  him  forth  and  gave  him  all — 

My  love,  my  faith,  my  prayers. 

We  '11  meet  no  more;  my  heart  is  dumb, 
And  yet  it  seems  this  cannot  be; 


134  LYRICS   OF   THE    WEST. 

But  then  if  I  should  bid  him  come, 

Resigning  all  for  me, 
My  kiss  would  sting  him  at  the  last, 

He  'd  rend  the  chains  he  fain  would  wear, 
No,  no !  our  hopes,  our  dreams — the  past — 

Are  voices  stilled  in  prayer. 


IN  WOMAN'S   WORLD. 

IN  woman's  world  do  song-birds  sing 
Throughout  the  year  ?     Does  gladness  ring 
From  dawn  till  dark  her  golden  bell, 
In  woman's  world  ?     Ah,  who  can  tell  ? 
But,  ah,  methinks,  on  silvery  wing 
Heaven's  echoes  come  like  birds  in  spring, 
'Round  woman's  throne  all  clustering; 
And  we  are  told  't  is  blest  to  dwell 
In  woman's  world. 

If  thou  art  worn  and  wandering 

In  paths  of  sin  and  suffering, 

And  fain  would  drink  from  mercy's  well, 
Come  hither,  come  beneath  love's  spell, 

For  sweet  love  is  the  offering 
In  woman's  world. 


HAVE   FAITH   IN   GOD. 

UPON  the  air  a  voice  is  borne 

That  's  heard  o'er  land  and  sea, 
Its  music  charms  the  dreary  land, 

It  lulls  to  sleep  the  sea. 
It  sings  around  the  stars  above, 

It  whispers  'neath  the  sod, 
The  words  of  cheer  it  speaks  to  all 

Are  these,  "  Have  faith  in  God." 

One  day  while  singing  glad  and  gay, 

A  moan  it  chanced  to  hear, 
It  came  from  one  of  broken  heart 

Within  a  hovel  near. 
A  little  form  in  robes  of  white 

Was  sleeping  'neath  the  sod; 
The  voice  said,  "  Thou  shall  see  the  child 

Again.     Have  faith  in  God." 

"  Have  faith  in  God,"  so  said  the  voice 
One  dismal  wintry  day, 
136 


HAVE  FAITH  IN  GOD.  137 

When  orphaned  children,  one,  two,  three, 

Had  knelt  for  bread  to  pray. 
No  need  had  they,  the  tender  lambs, 

To  feel  the  chastening  rod, 
And  ere  the  prayer  was  finished  they 

Had  food.     Have  faith  in  God. 


Drinking  the  bitter  dregs  of  sin, 

A  man  and  wife  must  part, 
While  weeping  children  cling  to  each, 

And  heart  is  torn  from  heart. 
"  Alas!  "  cried  they,  "  there  is  no  hope 

Until  beneath  the  sod 
We  shall  forget ' '  ;  but  hear  the  voice 

Sing  out,  "  Have  faith  in  God." 

And  can  it  be  that  faith  in  God 

Can  make  the  bitter  sweet  ? 
Can  mend  the  broken,  right  the  wrong  ? 

Then  kneel  at  Jesus*  feet. 
Who  needs  must  sink  in  dark  despair 

Beneath  the  chastening  rod  ? 
There  is  no  wrong  God  cannot  right, 

Look  up!     Have  faith  in  God. 


138  LYRICS   OF   THE    WEST. 

Then  blessed  be  the  happy  voice, 

That  sings  o'er  land  and  sea, 
And  ever  says,  "  Have  faith  in  God; 

His  love  shall  make  thee  free." 
Sing  on,  sweet  voice,  we  've  heard  thee  oft 

Where  aching  feet  have  trod, 
And,  oh,  we  welcome  thee  alway, 

Sin^  on,  "  Have  faith  in  God." 

And  so  upon  its  mission  glad, 

It  breathes  upon  the  air 
Forever  gentle  words  of  love, 

To  save  men  from  despair. 
If  thou  art  sinking  'cause  of  pain 

Beneath  the  chastening  rod, 
Ah,  kiss  the  rod,  't  is  sent  in  love; 

Sing  on — Have  faith  in  God. 


PRAYER. 

FATHER,  I  cannot  speak  the  words 

My  heart  so  yearns  to  say; 
The  night  is  lone  and  dark  and  drear, 

And  gloom  enshrouds  my  way. 
And  Thou  canst  see  the  spectral  forms 

That  rise  up  in  the  night 
And  beckon  me.     I  plead,  I  pray, 

Lead  me,  oh,  lead  aright. 

I  cannot  tell  where  Thou  shalt  lead, 

Thou  knowest;  I  but  ask 
Prepare  my  life,  my  heart,  my  hands 

To  do  each  tiny  task. 
And  teach  me,  Lord,  to  do  Thy  will, 

On  Thee  to  cast  my  care, 
And  teach  me  how  to  pray — perchance 

Obedience  is  prayer. 


DEAR  ONE,   ADIEU. 

GOD  bless  thee,  dear,  and  now  good-bye; 
The  sun  sinks  low  in  yonder  sky, 
Then  haste  away,  nor  think  of  me, 
Though  my  heart  break  and  bleed  for  thee. 
Where  duty  calls  I  bid  thee  go, 
Be  brave,  be  hopeful,  dear,  and  know 
As  long  as  cloudless  skies  are  blue, 
I  love  but  thee,  I  will  be  true. 

Where  duty  calls  I  see  afar, 

The  blazing  gleam  of  fame's  bright  star, 

And  bid  thee  go;  I  can  but  stay 

And  love  thee  well,  and  for  thee  pray. 

Not  mine  to  comprehend  thy  task, 

We  part  forever — I  but  ask, 

When  days  are  dark  and  friends  are  few, 

Remember,  then,  I  will  be  true. 

Some  day  on  other  lips  shall  burn 
Those  kisses,  passion  born — yet  turn 
140 


DEAR   ONE,   ADIEU.  141 

From  me  away  and  seek  the  one 

Whose  mate  thou  art;  ah,  then,  well  done 

Shall  be  my  life  work  when  I  know 

That  I  have  aided  thee.     Ah,  go, 

And  climb  the  heights ;  dear  one,  adieu, 

One  farewell  kiss — I  will  be  true. 


WE   'LL  MEET  AGAIN. 

WE  'LL  meet  again,  my  heart  doth  say, 
And  this  my  hope  from  day  to  day; 

It  cannot  be  that  cruel  fate 

Hath  shut  and  barred  love's  golden  gate, 
And  thou  hast  all  forgotten;  nay, 
I  trust  thee  more.     Some  gentle  fay 
Keeps  singing  to  my  heart  alway, 

And  oft  doth  she  asseverate, 
We  '11  meet  again. 

Life  is  the  stage,  our  love  the  play, 
The  curtain  has  gone  down, — yet  stay, 

Can  aught  true  love  obliterate  ? 

Some  fair,  sweet  day,  if  soon  or  late, 
In  love's  own  way,  my  heart  doth  say, 
We  '11  meet  again. 


142 


I  'M  WAITING  FOR  YOU. 

THE  night  shades  are  falling, 

The  sunlight  has  fled, 
The  lamps  are  now  lighted, 

The  table  is  spread. 
I  stand  in  the  twilight, 

I  'm  kissed  by  the  dew, 
While  watching,  dear  papa, 

And  waiting  for  you. 

I  'm  waiting  for  you  with 

A  kiss,  papa  dear, 
I  've  roses  to  give  you, 

And  sunshine  and  cheer. 
The  bright  stars  are  peeping 

From  out  heaven's  blue, 
Come  quickly,  dear  papa, 

I  'm  waiting  for  you. 


143 


LEAD  THEM   HOME. 

I  COULD  tell  of  days  made  happy 

By  a  husband's  tender  kiss, 
Of  a  home  of  love  and  beauty, 

Of  a  fairer  day  than  this. 
When  the  night  winds  ne'er  would  whisper 

Such  a  tale  as  now  they  tell, 
Since  the  years  have  flown,  and  lonely 

Is  my  heart  and  home — ah,  well, 

I  remember  how  my  husband, 

When  the  evening  lights  were  lit, 
Used  to  love  to  sit  beside  me, 

And  to  watch  me  sing  and  knit, 
While  our  little  ones  were  dreaming, 

And  our  hearts  were  young  and  gay; 
But  't  was  in  the  past,  my  gladness, 

And  I  'm  all  alone  to-day. 

For  the  "  little  ones  "  have  wandered 
Out  upon  the  sea  of  life, 
144 


LEAD    THEM  HOME.  145 

Twenty  years  ago  my  husband 

Whispered,  "  Meet  me  there,  sweet  wife." 
Twenty  years, — a  long,  long  waiting, — 

But  the  meeting  time  is  near, 
I  am  old  and  bent  and  wrinkled, 

And  my  sight  no  longer  clear. 

"  Over  there  "  is  home  so  precious, 

Home  for  children  and  for  me, 
Home  where  husband  waits  and  watches 

For  our  coming.     Seems  I  see 
Once  again  each  dear  one  climbing 

Into  father's  old  armchair, 
While  he  smiles  and  rocks  the  babies, 

In  the  home  once  bright  and  fair. 

And  the  children  ne'er  shall  gather 

In  our  earthly  home  again, 
Ere  they  come  again  to  mother, 

She  '11  have  passed  from  toil  and  pain. 
O  my  Father,  do  Thou  hear  me, 

Guide  the  children  lest  they  roam, 
Over  life's  tempestuous  ocean, 

Father,  safely  lead  them  home. 


THE   PARTING. 

IN  long  years  of  weeping, — 
Is  't  sin  ?— God  forbid!-— 

My  heart  still  is  keeping 
Our  secret  close  hid. 


I  've  known  little  pleasure, 

Yet  after  the  showers 
The  sunshine  we  treasure, — 

I  Ve  known  some  bright  hours. 

And  yet,  't  is  our  duty 

Forever  to  part; 
For  us  there  's  no  beauty 

In  heaven,  sweetheart, 

Unless,  in  that  fair  home 

Where  weary  ones  rest, 
E'en  as  now,  thou  mayest  come 

And  rest  on  my  breast; 
146 


THE  PARTING. 

Unless,  e'en  as  now,  dear, 
I  thrill  'neath  thy  kiss, 

I  cannot  allow,  dear, 
In  heaven  there  's  bliss. 

My  God!  I  '11  regret  thee, 
Too  sweet  was  our  love  ; 

Think  not  I  '11  repent  me, 
More  faithful  I  '11  prove. 

Shall  memory  haunt  me  ? 

God  pity  me,  then, 
Thy  kisses  will  taunt  me, — 

We  '11  ne'er  meet  again. 

We  part,  and  forever, 
Yet  fond  hearts  and  true 

No  partings  can  sever, — 
O  sweet  one,  adieu. 


SHOW  THE  WORLD  WHAT  YOU  CAN  DO. 

I  'M  a  fool  that  I  don't  do  it!— 

Send  a  bullet  through  my  brain, 
I  have  lost  my  all  forever, 

Life  is  loss  and  death  were  gain. 
In  this  lonely,  dreary  dungeon, 

Weeping  tears  of  shame  alone, 
Friends  I  've  loved  and  that  have  loved  me, 

Pass  me  by  as  though  unknown. 

And  my  wife  yearns  to  forget  me, 

While  my  baby  calls  in  vain, 
Seems  I  hear  the  child  say,  "  Mamma, 

Will  papa  come  home  again  ?  " 
Oh,  I  'm  lost,  I  'm  wrecked,  I  'm  ruined, 

All  my  life  my  sin  I  '11  rue, 
What  is  this  that  seems  to  whisper, 

"  Show  the  world  what  you  can  do  "  ? 

Show  the  world  !     Ah !  men  would  curse  me 
If  I  held  to  them  the  stars, 
148 


SHOW  THE  WORLD  WHAT  YOU  CAN  DO.    149 

If  I  gave  them  gold  for  ashes — 

I  have  been  behind  the  bars. 
But  I  '11  try;  yes,  I  will  do  it, 

Rise  above  the  world's  disdain, 
I  will  teach  my  wife  to  trust  me, 

She  shall  kiss  my  lips  again. 

For  to-night  within  my  prison, 

Streaming  through  the  cruel  bars, 
Comes  the  light  God  gives  so  gently, 

From  His  own,  the  countless  stars. 
Gazing  upward,  mercy  whispers, 

Gently,  sweetly,  ' '  God  is  true, 
Loves  thee  ever,  falters  never, — 

Show  the  world  what  you  can  do." 

Whence  it  came,  this  hopeful  message, 

Whither  gone,  I  know  not  where, 
But  I  know  that  since  its  coming, 

It  has  chased  away  despair. 
And  I  live  to  lose  my  sorrow 

In  a  life  that  's  brave  and  true, 
In  my  heart  this  cherished  motto: 

"  Show  the  world  what  you  can  do." 


MY  VERSES  AND   MY   FRIEND. 

WHEN  first  you  read  my  verses, 

You  thought  them  very  good, 
And  I  rejoiced — you  know  it — 

As  but  their  author  could. 
But  later,  you  re-read  them, 

You  find  them  faulty  now — 
You  laugh  because  there  lingers 

A  cloud  upon  my  brow. 

When  first,  my  friend,  you  loved  me, 

You  thought  me  only  fair, 
You  told  me  I  had  beauty, 

You  kissed  my  sunny  hair. 
We  walked  a  pace  together 

Then  learned  to  disagree, 
For  now  you  know  me  faulty, 

No  longer  fair  to  thee. 

When  last  you  read  my  verses, — 
Pronounced  them  faulty, — then 
150 


MY   VERSES  AND  MY  FRIEND. 

I  looked  upon  them  only 

As  scratches  from  a  pen. 
But  in  my  heart  they  echo, 

Their  birth  was  but  a  thrill 
Of  bygone  joys  remembered, 

I  can  but  love  them  still. 

And  so,  my  friend,  I  pray  you 

If  faults  you  find  in  me, 
Still  love  me  and  forgive  me, 

And  let  us  happy  be. 
Believe  my  heart  is  faithful, 

Though  dark  or  light  the  sky, 
And  we  shall  still  be  happy 

Together— you  and  I, 


I  KNOW  ONE  HEART  IS  TRUE. 

WE  parted,  and  forever, 

0  God !  that  last  adieu, 

'T  would  break  my  heart  if  not  for  this — 

1  know  one  heart  is  true. 


He  '11  roam  the  wide  world  over, 
And  love  his  path  will  strew 

With  sweet  enticements,  yet  I  know — 
I  know  one  heart  is  true. 

What  though  the  days  are  dreary, 
Some  penance  must  be  due 

For  love  so  great — I  am  content — 
I  know  one  heart  is  true. 

Ah,  true,  yes  true  as  heaven, 
And  faithful  hearts  are  few; 

How  sweet  my  rest,  how  firm  my  trust, 
I  know  one  heart  is  true. 
152 


/  KNOW  ONE  HEART  IS   TRUE.         153 

We  ne'er  shall  meet  again,  love, 

The  past  we  '11  not  renew, 
Yet  each  may  say,  and  rightly,  dear, 

"  I  know  one  heart  is  true." 

You  kissed  my  lips,  and  weeping 

We  spoke  the  last  adieu ; 
Until  we  meet  in  heaven  at  last, 

I  know  thou  wilt  be  true. 


LOVE'S  RESPONSE  TO  LOVE. 

YES,  love,  my  heart  responds 
With  precious  tribute  due, 

When  thou  dost  say  to  me, 
"  I  know  one  heart  is  true." 

Love  answers  back  to  love, 

As  azure  sky  to  blue, 
As  "  deep  to  deep  "  the  sea, 

Because  two  hearts  are  true. 

The  love  I  bear  to  thee 

Is  kindled  thus  anew, 
For  "  love  is  fed  with  love," 

My  dear,  if  love  be  true. 

Sweet  peace  to  thee,  dear  one, 
The  goal  of  life  pursue, 

At  quicker  pace  go  on, 
Thy  lover's  love  is  true. 


THE   HIDDEN   TREASURE. 

0  LOVE,  like  the  waves  of  the  ocean, 
So  beautiful,  boundless,  and  free, 

Come  hither,  my  heart,  in  its  yearning, 
At  rest  on  thy  bosom  would  be. 

1  hold  out  my  hands  in  entreaty, 

I  plead  that  thy  kiss  may  be  mine, — 

0  Love,  art  thou  deaf  to  my  calling  ? 
My  heart  yields  her  treasure  for  thine. 

1  gaze  on  the  night,  and  she  whispers, 
"  At  twilight  come  hither,  and  Love, 

Entreated,  may  lend  his  embraces." 
I  gaze  on  the  bright  stars  above; 

The  heavens  are  singing  their  love  song, 
The  earth  in  its  darkness  is  drear, 

At  twilight  I  seek  for  my  treasure, 
But  find  that  it  nowhere  is  near. 

I  turn  to  the  morn  in  her  glory, 
I  see  that  the  sun  gives  a  kiss 


156  LYRICS  OF   THE    WEST. 

To  each  humble  rose,  and  the  dew-drops 
Are  making  bright  eyes  in  their  bliss. 

And  yet  in  their  midst  I  'm  bewildered, 
The  treasure  I  seek  cannot  see, 

I  know  not  the  way  of  enchantment, 
And  Love  hies  away,  lost  to  me. 

But  now  is  my  heart  swept  and  garnished, 

And  bended  my  knees  are  in  prayer; 
Come  hither,  0  Love,  in  thy  fulness, 

Nor  doom  me  to  death  and  despair. 
I  wait  in  my  heart's  deep  contrition, 

I  yearn  for  thy  kiss  on  my  brow, 
O  God,  Thou  hast  heard  my  petition, 

And,  Love,  thou  art  blessing  me  now. 


REMEMBRANCE. 

DOST  thou  remember  where  we  passed 

The  sweet  tuberoses  in  our  stroll  ? 
Thou  gavest  me  one  rose,  my  friend, 

And  in  the  garden  of  my  soul 
I  hid  it  with  the  dream  of  joy 

The  day  had  given — 't  will  impart 
While  life  shall  last,  till  dreams  are  past, 

A  perfume  rare  from  out  my  heart. 

And  oft  as  I  remember  now 

The  beauty  of  the  sun-kissed  flowers, 
The  music  of  thy  voice,  my  friend, 

The  sweetness  of  those  summer  hours, 
My  soul  pays  tribute  to  the  joys 

That  memory  can  still  impart, 
From  every  searching  eye  is  hid 

The  happy  past  within  my  heart. 


157 


THE   MYSTERY  OF  LOVE, 
i. 

BUT  once  to  every  soul  King  Love  appears; 
But  once  we  bathe  his  feet  with  sacred  tears; 
We  've  many  a  passion,  many  a  dream  of  joy, 
Full  many  a  tender  thought,  but  sweetly  coy 
The  heart  still  slumbers  till  that  summer  noon 
That  smiles  on  every  life,  if  late  or  soon, — 
That  golden  hour  when  Nature  lies  in  bloom, 
All  things  beneath  the  sun  new  life  assume, 
And  Love  comes  dressed  in  immortality, 
And  out  we  sail  upon  a  golden  sea. 
Some  souls  there  be  who  know  him  by  his  smile; 
Still  others  know  him  not  until,  the  while 
He  bends  above  them,  on  their  thirsty  lips 
He  drops  a  burning  tear.     One  dear  heart  sips 
The  sweets  of  passion,  and  is  well  content; 
Another  seeking  sympathy  is  bent. 
And  it  may  be  King  Love,  his  cause  to  plead, 
Has  but  to  search  each  heart  and  know  its  need. 
158 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  LOVE.  159 

II. 

Since  men  have  died  for  love,  I  've  tried,  you  '11  see, 
To  rend  the  veil  that  hides  the  mystery. 
Is  't  true  that  love  is  blind  ?     They  say  't  is  so! 
Is  love  immortal  ?     Ah,  who  this  can  know  ? 
Yet  't  is  not  love,  but  passion  mean  and  vile, 
If  aught  can  from  its  course  true  love  beguile. 
And  did  our  God  create  two  souls  to  mate  ? 
Then  why,  oh  why,  the  cruelty  of  fate  ? 
Does  love  in  turn  beget  love  ?     Some  have  said; 
But  then,  we  know,  not  so  the  tale  is  read. 
One  gives  his  treasures  all,  and  for  his  fee 
Gets  pain,  or  worse — indifference,  may  be; 
A  woman  gives  her  soul!     Perchance,  in  turn 
Receives  a  wound  that  evermore  shall  burn. 
And  few  there  be  who  all  the  journey  long 
Have  tuned  their  lyres  to  sing  love's  perfect  song. 


in. 


King  Love  forever  will  elude  the  grasp 
Of  lofty  souls,  who,  seeking  him,  oft  clasp 
A  thing  that  may  his  shadow  prove ;  and  then, 
King  Love  himself  (the  silliness  of  men) 


l6o  LYRICS  OF   THE    WEST. 

Will  lose  his  head  if  beauty  pass  his  way, 
Tho'  all  the  soul's  delight  he  miss  alway. 
But  wait ;  I  think  I  said  Love  comes  to  all, 
If  soon  or  late,  he  comes  to  great  and  small. 
Yet,  see!  he  ofttimes  enters  where  the  gloom 
Foretells  the  darkness  of  the  waiting  tomb ; 
On  eyes  grown  blind  with  age  he  leaves  a  kiss, 
And  who  can  tell  the  mystery  of  this  ? 
Sometimes  a  fair  young  wife  must  be  his  prey, 
He  spares  not  any  who  may  chance  his  way. 
And  then  he  comes  with  all  enticements  sweet, 
When  fettered  are  his  hands  and  are  his  feet; 
Ah,  yes,  he  comes! — a  most  unwelcome  guest 
To  many  a  heart,  a  stab  to  many  a  breast ! 
"  Too  late,  too  late!  "  o'er  all  the  earth  the  cry; 
"  Too  late,  too  late!  King  Love  is  passing  by." 
And  yet,  where  is  the  heart  that  does  not  keep 
The  memory  of  his  coming  hidden  deep 
Amongst  the  fairest  treasures  of  the  soul  ? 
All  hearts  beat  wild  in  blissful  uncontrol 
If  on  a  summer  noon  he  comes,  and  then 
Thro'  all  the  earth  resounds  one  great  Amen! 
The  flowers  of  heaven  all  bloom ;  in  that  glad  hour 
Drop  fragrance  like  a  sunlit  summer  shower. 
But  if  King  Love  delay  his  coming  long, 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  LOVE.  l6l 

Methinks  a  hush  falls  over  heaven's  throng, 

And  angels  say,  "  Impute  it  not  as  sin 

If  at  his  coming  that  heart  let  him  in." 

For  "  God  is  Love/'  and  love  He  gives  His  own, 

And  by  this  grace  alone  shall  they  be  known. 

If  Love  comes  late,  't  is  that  His  child  may  rest 

In  waiting  on  a  loving  Father's  breast. 

So  if  you  think  my  story  is  confused, 

'T  is  plain  to  Love's  strange  ways  you  are  unused. 

IV. 

I  've  sought  out  and  can  tell  all  things  save  this: 
(And  here  my  reasonings  all  go  amiss) 
Why  is  the  heart  condemned  to  still  love  on 
When  all  the  sweets  of  love  fade  and  are  gone  ? 
When  Love  himself  hath  pierced   her  thro'  and 

thro'— 

The  lover  changed — why  cannot  love  change,  too  ? 
Ah,  this  thing  hath  no  soul  the  power  to  tell, 
Love  must  be  faithful  to  the  last — 't  is  well; 
And  so,  until  we  tread  the  streets  above, 
Man  may  not  solve  the  mystery  of  love. 


ONE   LITTLE   SWEET   BLOSSOM. 

ONE  little  sweet  blossom,  heav'n  gave  it  to  me, 
So  dainty  and  white,  and  the  name — purity; 
It  was  all  that  I  owned,  and  I  pined  for  the  flowers 
That  bloomed  in  life's  passionate  sunnier  hours. 

One  little  sweet  blossom,  I  put  it  aside, 
Sailed  out  on  the  ocean  of  life  deep  and  wide; 
I  bought  and  I  treasured  magnificent  bloom, 
I  sought  my  fair  treasures  in  sunshine  and  gloom. 

I  thirsted  to  gather  the  roses  of  fame, 

I  loved  not  my  life,  but  an  undying  name; 

I  plucked  the  bright  roses,  but  let  fall  the  prize, 

The  little  sweet  blossom,  my  gift  from  the  skies. 

The  pure  heart  and  tender  was  folded  in  care, 
My  flowers  all  withered  and  died  unaware; 
Would  I  could  exchange  this  great  armful  of  flowers 
For  the  little  sweet  blossom  I  held  in  youth's  hours. 


162 


REMORSE. 

I  WRONGED  thee — ah,  't  is  bitter  now, 
Forgive,  or  yet  forgive  me  not, 

Whichever  it  be,  thou  wilt  allow 
The  deed  can  never  be  forgot. 

I  did  thee  harm.     O  injured  one, 
What  I  have  felt  thou  hast  not  known; 

I  would  recall  the  deed — 't  is  done! 
I  suffer!     God,  may  this  atone! 


163- 


THINKING  OF   ME. 

THINKING  of  me  when  you  kneel  to  pray  ? 

Are  you  thinking  of  me  this  Sabbath  day  ? 
Does  the  peal  of  the  joyful  bells  bring  near 
The  one  to  your  heart  most  loved,  most  dear  ? 

I  ofttimes  wonder  when  far  away, 
When  friends  are  near  who  are  glad  and  gay, 
If  ever  anon  your  thought  will  stray, 
And  your  heart  find  sweetest  hope  and  cheer 
Thinking  of  me. 

You  have  deemed  me  fair  in  your  dreams — yet,  stay ! 

It  is  not  for  this  I  would  plead  and  pray; 
This — this,  I  ask,  that  your  listening  ear 
The  words  that  my  heart  would  speak  may  hear, 

For  you  are,  I  know,  this  Sabbath  day 
Thinking  of  me. 


164 


ETERNITY. 

WHEN  loved  ones  pass  away  we  call  it  death; 
We  call  it  death,  this  passing  of  the  breath, 
This  sleep  that  wraps  the  body  in  sweet  rest, 
And  frees  the  soul  to  slumber  on  God's  breast. 

We  are  so  blind  we  fail  to  see 

Into  the  great  eternity. 

It  is  not  death,  this  going  on  before, 

And  oft  I  fain  would  give  the  battle  o'er; 

Like  loved  ones  that  are  gone,  I,  too,  would  sleep — 

Sweet  peace,  sweet  rest — the  angels  vigil  keep 

The  while  we  slumber,  soon  to  be 

The  children  of  eternity. 

Each  struggle  that  died  out  in  weakness  here, 
When  we  have  entered  there  it  will  appear 
That  angel  hands  have  made  the  work  complete, 
To  lay  it  as  a  trophy  at  our  feet. 

For  what  we  've  tried  to  do  will  be 

Rewarded  in  eternity. 
165 


l66  LYRICS  OF   THE    WEST. 

The  invalid  that  could  not  leave  his  chair, 
To  sip  from  Nature's  fountain  rich  and  rare, 
The  hand  that,  palsied,  could  not  hold  a  flower, 
Shall  grasp  immortal  roses  in  that  hour 

When  souls  now  fettered  shall  be  free, 

Time  past,  and  dawns  eternity. 

The  soul  must  be  prepared  to  enter  there; 
I  would  not  fail  in  this,  or  dark  or  fair, 
Or  rough  or  flower-strewn  my  way,  at  last 
I  'd  glide  into  the  harbor,  sails  full  mast, 

To  sail  for  aye  that  golden  sea, 

Eternity,  eternity! 


WOULD   I  WERE   A   BEE. 

I  'VE  watched  the  bee  at  work,  at  play, 

The  lips  of  every  flower 
He  tastes,  and  to  those  loved  the  best 

He  clings  thro'  many  an  hour. 

With  one  and  all  a  welcome  guest, 
Oh,  sweet  his  scented  bower, — 

Dear  heart,  I  would  I  were  a  bee, 
And  you  my  choicest  flower. 


167 


LOVE  IS   TRUE   TO   LOVE. 

DOST  ask  if  I  '11  be  true  to  thee — 

To  thee,  the  one  I  love  ? 
Go  seek  an  answer  in  the  works 

Of  Him  who  rules  above, 
For  all  the  works  of  Nature  prove 

That  love  is  true  to  love. 

The  flowers  love  the  summer  time; 

When  springtime  doth  appear 
The  roses  bloom  in  greeting,  and 

In  love  to  summer's  cheer; 
They  love  no  other  season,  and 

They  bloom  but  once  a  year. 

The  tiny  little  birdies  do 

Rest  safely  in  their  nest ; 
The  parent  bird  will  seek  them  food 

Before  he  seeketh  rest. 
But  why  not  feed  the  neighbor  birds  ? 

He  loves  his  own  the  best, 
168 


LOVE  IS   TRUE    TO  LOVE.  169 

A  mother  loves  her  little  one, 

And  from  him  would  she  stray 
To  seek  another  child  to  love, 

Altho*  it  be  more  gay  ? 
Ah,  love  is  ever  true  to  love, 

And  true  love  cannot  stray. 

The  world  is  full  of  sinning  ones 

Who  reap  as  they  have  sown, 
We  pity  them,  for  well  we  know 

Not  true  love  have  they  known. 
For  set  apart  to  purity 

Is  she  who  wears  love's  crown. 


WHEN   YOU   WENT   AWAY. 

I  COULD  not  weep,  and  my  heart  stood  still, 
That  dismal  day  when  you  went  away, 

A  hush  o'er  the  household  fell,  until 
We  spoke  in  a  whisper  all  that  day. 

On  the  day  you  came,  quite  sure  I  am, 
There  never  were  hearts  so  glad  and  gay, 

I  cried  and  I  kissed  your  telegram — 
A  treasure  after  you  went  away. 

When  you  came  your  kiss  was  joyous,  glad, 
And  my  heart  sang  out  like  birds  in  May, 

But,  oh,  I  would  that  your  lips  ne'er  had 
Sought  mine  when  I  knew  you  going  away. 

Going  away,  and  perhaps  no  more — 
Aye,  never  again  on  mine  to  rest 

Those  lips! — that  is  why  that  last  kiss  tore 
My  heart  from  its  moorings  in  my  breast. 


170 


YOUR   HEART. 

You  'VE  loved  so  many,  yet  your  heart  has  some- 
thing new, 
Some  treasure  ne'er  discovered  by  the  seekers 

bold; 
Perchance  a  rose,  a  lily  white,  a  violet  blue, 

That  ne'er  has  bloomed — and  it  shall  at  my  touch 
unfold. 


171 


COME   BACK  TO   MY   HEART. 

COME  back  to  my  heart,  my  dear  lost  friend, 

Wait  not  to  be  welcomed  there, 
For  the  door  's  ajar — thou  art  gone,  and  yet, 

Was  thy  home  in  my  heart  not  fair  ? 
And  there  for  thee  do  the  roses  bloom — 

Shall  I  see  thy  face  no  more, 
Nor  hear  thy  voice,  though  I  love  thee,  dear, 

As  in  sweet,  sweet  days  of  yore  ? 

If  the  fault  were  mine,  or  if  't  were  thine, 

Let  us,  dear,  forget,  forgive ; 
And  to  each  we  '11  speak  gentle  words — oh,  pray 

That  the  dear  old  friendship  live. 
Murmur,  "  Peace,  be  still  !  "  to  the  troubled  heart 

Give  again  the  old-time  kiss, 
Then  we  '11  wipe  the  tears  from  each  other's  eyes, 

On  a  fairer  day  than  this. 

Yes,  dear,  come  back  to  my  heart  and  rest  ; — 
Oh,  the  day  is  lone  and  long, 
172 


COME  BACK  TO  MY  HEART.  173 

And  I  guard  the  buds  that  shall  bloom  for  thee 

When  thou  comest;  and  the  song 
Thou  hast  loved  the  best  I  shall  sing  no  more 

Till  I  sing  it  to  thine  ear, 
For  I  love  thee  still,  oh,  I  love  thee  well — 

Come  back  to  my  heart,  my  dear. 


SHE   ONCE   WAS   FAIR. 

SHE  once  was  fair,  I  hear  you  say ; 

Her  golden  hair  and  eyes  of  gray 
Made  in  each  heart  for  her  a  place, 
And  that  her  sweet  and  gentle  face 

Was  bright  as  noontide  of  the  day; 

You  envied  her,  forgot  to  pray, 

Because  she  chanced  to  pass  your  way, — 
Why  say  you  then  with  laughing  grace, 
She  once  was  fair  ? 

When  I  am  old,  have  lost  each  ray 
Of  beauty's  light,  oh,  sing  no  lay 
Of  sad  regret ;  let  time  efface 
All  that  is  fair,  and  weave  her  lace 
Upon  my  brow — but  do  not  say, 
She  once  was  fair. 


174 


YE   WELCOME   DREAMS. 

YE  welcome  dreams,  ye  friends  of  night, 

Born  in  the  far-off  realms  of  light, 
Come  hither  now,  canst  thou  not  spy 
The  dark  of  night  'twixt  earth  and  sky  ? 

Come  and  my  fancies  weave  aright, 

And  lend  me  visions  fair  and  bright ; 

Oh,  let  no  evil  omen  'fright 

Thy  soft  approach ;  I  pray  draw  nigh, 
Ye  welcome  dreams. 

In  thine  embrace,  oh,  what  delight! 
Ye  bring  me  beauty,  wealth  and  might, 

And  love  and  wisdom  from  on  high  ; 

I  'd  bid  thee  stay,  nor  say  good-bye, 
Yet  morning  dawns — good-night,  good-night, 
Ye  welcome  dreams. 


I   WAS   UNKIND. 

I  WAS  unkind,  and  yet  I  knew 

I  loved  him — then  was  love  untrue  ? 
Ah,  me,  I  saw  him  turn  away, 
He  tried  to  smile,  tried  to  be  gay, 

A  pained  look  in  his  eyes  of  blue. 

He  knew  not  why  as  moments  flew, 

I  silent  was — an  effort,  too, 
It  cost  me,  yet  that  fateful  day 
I  was  unkind. 

To-day  were  glad  could  I  undo 
The  evil  done;  I  would  renew 

The  happiness  I  wrecked,  and  say, 
"  Forgive,  oh,  love,  forgive,  I  pray  ; 
Look  in  my  eyes — forget,  will  you  ? 
I  was  unkind." 


176 


THE  SUMMER  IS   GONE. 

I  KNEW  not  when  she  came  what  wealth  of  flowers 
She  'd  scatter  'neath  my  feet;  nor  did  I  know 
From  out  her  springs  of  joy  there  'd  come  to  flow 
A  river  grand  and  deep.     Ah,  golden  hours, 
Ye  came  to  me  in  shady  nooks  and  bowers, 
So  filled  with  happy  voices  soft  and  low, 
I  can  but  drop  a  tear.     As  melts  the  snow, 
As  quickly  come  and  go  the  springtime  showers, 
Ye  vanished  and  are  gone;  but  sweeter  dreams 
Than  e'er  I  knew,  and  moments  rich  and  rare, 
Are  hiding  in  my  soul  in  still  retreat, 
And  at  the  touch  of  memory,  it  seems 
They  call  thee  back,  oh,  fairest  of  the  fair, 
Dear  summer  gone  for  aye,  but  oh,  how  sweet  ! 


177 


BE  KIND. 

"  BE  kind."     It  seemed  a  little  child  had  spoken, 
As  I  lay  dreaming  there  beneath  the  trees; 
I  wakened,  still  was  echoed  on  the  breeze, 
"  Be  kind  " — save  this,  the  silence  was  unbroken. 
Whence  came  the  voice  the  stillness  gave  no  token — 
It  seemed  the  distant  murmur  of  the  seas 
Took  up  these  two  sweet  words,  yea,  only  these; 
And  now  I  knew  the  voice  of  God  had  spoken, 
For  wan,  sad^  faces  came,  and  clustering 
About  my  heart,  they  entered  there  to  find 
Sweet  love  who  came  to  me  on  golden  wing, 
With  pity's  garments  clothed  me,  soul  and  mind. 
Then  mercy  kissed  my  lips;  I  learned  to  sing  ; 
The  theme  of  all  my  song  is  this,  "  Be  kind." 


178 


LONGING. 

WHAT  art  thou,  O  thou  guest  within  my  breast  ? 

Thy  burdened  spirit  wanders  to  and  fro 

As  restless  as  the  ocean's  ebb  and  flow, 

And  lends  my  soul  a  spirit  of  unrest. 

I  would  that  thou  shouldst  leave  me — it  were  best; 

Thy  presence  as  the  moments  come  and  go 

Is  torture, — this,  and  only  this,  I  know. 

Yet  I  have  loved  thee,  fair,  unwelcome  guest, 

And  at  thy  bidding  stretched  my  arms  to  find 

But  empty  space,  but  falling  tears  and  pain ; 

Where'er  I  go  thou  goest  but  to  bind 

Thy  tyrant's  cords  about  me — yet  refrain, 

I  've  learned  at  last  that  thou  art  most  unkind; 

Oh,  leave  my  heart,  and  ne'er  come  back  again. 


179 


DECEIVED. 

TO-DAY  I  sit  alone,  awake,  yet  dreaming; 

From  out  the  dear  dead  past  you  come  to  me, 
You  kiss  my  eyes,  bend  over  me,  in  seeming 

As  fond  as  you  were  wont  those  days  to  be. 
Your  voice,  your  touch  hath  all  the  olden  power, 

Again  I  tremble  with  exquisite  pain, 
And  lay  my  lips  on  thine  through  many  an  hour, 

And  dizzy  grows  my  heart  and  soul  and  brain. 

And  is  it  but  a  dream,  as  I  was  saying, 

Or  do  you  love  me  still  ?     It  seems — but  then, 
What  matter  what  it  seems  ? — not  all  the  praying 

Of  my  poor  soul  can  call  you  back  again. 
You  seemed  so  constant  and  so  true  a  lover, 

You  scorched  my  very  soul  with  passion's  fire, 
I  thought  your  love  matched  mine,  but  all  is  over, 

My  heart  loves  on,  and  you  already  tire. 

Wherefore  is  love  so  blind  ?     Another  loved  me, 
And  I — I  did  not  care,  I  loved  but  you; 

1 80 


DECEIVED,  l8l 

You  coldly  went  away,  perchance  you  proved  me 
The  better  thus  to  show  yourself  untrue. 

But  why  is  love  so  blind,  forever  stealing 

From  passions  not  her  own  her  dearest  bliss  ? 

Another  would  have  died  to  kindle  feeling 
Within  my  breast — I  cursed  him  for  your  kiss. 

And  now — but  no,  I  do  not  blame — I  love  you, 

I  've  learned  to  read  aright  your  heart  and  mine, 
I  pray  the  God  of  Love  keep  watch  above  you, 

My  heart  hath  learned  to  pray,  I  do  not  pine. 
I  warmed  your  passions  by  my  own  so  tender, 

I  taught  you  to  respond — O  God  !  believed 
That  that  was  love  in  all  its  bliss,  its  splendor; 

You  thought  it  too — we  both  have  been  deceived. 


THE   FIRST-BORN. 

SOFTLY,  my  dear  one,  baby  is  sleeping; 
Gaze  thou  upon  him,  but  kiss  me  instead, 
Lest  he  awaken.     Oh,  priceless  treasure, 
Pledge  of  our  happiness,  union,  and  love! 
How  like  thyself  is  our  little  one;  dearer 
Each  day  he  grows,  as  I  trace  in  his  face 
Features  like  thine;  when  his  blue  eyes  are  open 
Almost  I  can  read  in  their  depth  thine  own  soul. 
What  shall  we  name  him  ?    What,  love,  is  thy  name  ? 
Is  there  another  so  sweet  to  my  ear  ? 
Like  thee  thy  babe  in  name  and  in  feature — 
That  he  shall  be  like  thee,  noble  and  true, 
Kneel  by  his  cot,  love,  and  help  me  to  pray. 
So  thou  shalt  bless  for  the  gift  I  have  given, 
When  we  shall  kiss  o'er  the  gulf  of  the  years. 
I  opened  my  arms,  Thou  gavest  this  treasure, 
Blest  God,  in  Thy  goodness,  mercy,  and  love; 
And,  oh,  that  the  little  feet  ne'er  go  astray, 
The  soul  of  our  babe  be  kept  white  as  the  snow, 
We  kneel  down  together  and  fervently  pray. 

182 


SONNET. 

IF  thou  hadst  been  as  others  are,  in  vain 
Had  been  thy  passion — from  thee  I  could  go, 
And  could  forget.     Ah,  it  were  best,  I  know, 
To  say  good-bye  and  leave  thee — but  this  pain, 
This  misery  of  heart  and  soul  and  brain 
Is  sweet  if  I  may  see  thy  face,  and  so 
For  this  I  stay,  though  it  were  best  to  go — 
Aye,  best  and  right  that  we  ne'er  meet  again. 
But,  love,  through  all  the  long  remorseless  years, 
Apart  from  thee  my  heart  must  sorely  ache; 
'T  is  sweet  to  see  thy  face  e'en  through  my  tears, 
'T  is  sweet  to  love  e'en  tho'  the  heart  must  break. 
Yet,  if  't  is  sin,  and  we  must  say  good-bye, 
Ah,  God  be  merciful  to  me,  and  let  me  die. 


183 


LIKE   THE   STRINGS   OF  THE   OLD 
GUITAR. 

AN  old  guitar  on  a  table  lay, 

In  a  room  that  was  dark  and  still, 
And  the  twilight  shades  at  the  close  of  day 

Filled  the  room  with  gloom  until, 
As  the  soft  winds  sighed  through  the  open  door, 

Like  a  breath  from  worlds  afar, 
They  struck  one  chord  that  was  wondrous  sweet 

From  the  strings  of  the  old  guitar. 

And  I  seemed  to  see  in  the  far-off  past, 

Where  my  youth  and  dreams  both  perished, 
A  life  made  glad  with  the  dreams  made  real, 

With  the  gifts  and  joys  so  cherished. 
And  I  looked  again,  and  a  life  I  saw 

Void  of  sin  and  selfish  pleasure, 
Tho'  in  this  fair  life  not  a  dream  came  true, 

And  the  years  gave  naught  to  treasure. 

Then  the  night  shades  fell — like  a  great  black  sea 
Did  the  darkness  float  around  me, 
184 


LIKE  THE  STRINGS  OF  THE  OLD  GUITAR.   185 

While  the  idols  torn  from  a  chastened  heart 
Seemed  to  rise  like  ghosts  about  me. 

Then  I  knew  the  gift  that  is  best  of  all 
Is  the  peace  that  naught  can  mar — 

Oh,  respond,  my  heart,  to  the  breath  of  good 
Like  the  strings  of  the  old  guitar. 


REGRET. 

WOULD  that  on  mine  no  other  lips  had  rested, 

Would  that  no  hand  save  thine  had  dared  caress, 
Would  that  no  thrill  of  passion  or  of  pleasure 

Had  pierced  my  heart  or  given  happiness! 
Ah,  then  the  past,  the  present,  and  the  future, 

A  gift  most  sweet  I  'd  gladly  give  to  thee, 
And  now  I  should  be  blessed  if  ne'er  another 

Had  loved  me  or  had  sailed  with  me  life's  sea. 

If  to  thine  heart  so  true  I  came  from  heaven, 

If  to  thy  lips  I  brought  an  angel's  kiss, 
Then  were  I  worthy — then,  my  God,  I  'd  lay  me 

Sweetly  to  rest  within  the  arms  of  bliss. 
Then  would  I  bid  thee  take  my  heart  and  hide  it 

Safely  forever — it  were  then  thine  own; 
Ah,  if  't  were  true  I  ne'er  had  loved  another, 

No  other  loved  me,  called  me  his  alone! 

Yet  with  my  soul  I  have  not  loved ;  oh,  ever 
True  love  has  slumbered  in  my  heart  of  pain ; 
186 


REGRET.  187 

But  now,  awakened,  echoes  and  re-echoes, 
Haunting  the  soul  forever  and  in  vain : 

Would  I  could  rest  within  thine  arms  so  tender, 
Weep  on  thy  breast  these  tears  of  pain !  and  yet, 

Now  that  I  love  and  truly,  all  unworthy, 
Nothing  is  mine  but  weeping  and  regret. 


WE  WERE  SCHOOLMATES,  FRED  AND  I. 

WE  kissed  good-bye,  I  went  away, 

He  twined  a  wreath  about  my  head, 
A  wreath  of  snowy  roses — yea, 

And  mixed  with  passion  roses  red. 
"  I  will  be  true,"  each  softly  said, 

And  then  once  more  we  kissed  good-bye; 
We  were  too  young,  't  is  true,  to  wed, 

But  we  were  schoolmates,  Fred  and  I. 

What  matters  all  the  rest  ?     I  say, 

What  if  we  did  forget  ?  and  Fred, 
As  men  will  do,  forgot  to  pray, 

Thus  did  he  with  another  wed. 
The  long,  long  years  went  by;  unfed, 

My  childish  fancy  could  but  die, 
Neglected  in  its  garden-bed — 

But  we  were  schoolmates,  Fred  and  I. 

I  wandered  back  at  last — to-day 
We  meet  again,  the  roses  red 
1 88 


WE  WERE  SCHOOLMA  TES,  FRED  AND  I.     189 

Are  blooming  as  of  yore.     Ah,  may 
Their  grace  delight  as  they  are  spread 

For  her  he  loves ;  oh,  may  she  tread 
Where  flowers  greet  a  cloudless  sky. 

We  part  once  more  as  from  the  dead — 
But  we  were  schoolmates,  Fred  and  I. 

ENVOY. 

O  days  of  youth,  so  quickly  fled, 

Ye  mock  me  with  your  cruelty; 
We  close  the  book,  the  tale  is  read — 

But  we  were  schoolmates,  Fred  and  I. 


ABIDE  WITH   ME. 

WHEN  the  flowers  bloom  about  me, 

When  the  sun  lights  up  the  sky, 
When  the  birds  are  sweetly  singing, 

When  no  evil  thing  is  nigh, 
Fold  me  in  Thine  arms,  dear  Saviour, 

Hold  me  closer,  Lord,  to  Thee, 
While  the  flowers  bloom  about  me, 

Father,  O  abide  with  me  ! 

When  the  night  falls  dark  about  me, 

Clouds  have  gathered  in  the  sky, 
When  the  birds  have  ceased  their  singing, 

When  the  blossoms  droop  and  die, 
Yet  shall  I  sing  on  as  gladly, 

Though  Thy  face  I  may  not  see, 
If  Thine  arms  of  love  enfold  me. 

Father,  O  abide  with  me! 

Yes,  abide  with  me,  my  Saviour; 
Every  joy  would  lose  its  sweet 
190 


ABIDE    WITH  ME. 

If  I  wander  from  Thy  presence — 
O,  I  pray  Thee,  guide  my  feet! 

Yea,  Thy  word  shall  light  my  pathway, 
Give  me  life  and  love  and  Thee, 

Thou  hast  said  Thou  'It  ne'er  forsake  me, 
Evermore  abide  with  me  ! 


THANKSGIVING. 

THAT  I  may  weep  with  those  who  needs  must  weep, 

May  scatter  sunbeams  o'er  some  darkened  way; 

That  I  may  hope  and  sing,  may  love  and  pray, 

And  cheer  the  faint  while  careless  millions  sleep; 

That  I  may  sail  the  ocean  grand  and  deep 

Of  God's  great  love,  and  know  that  day  by  day 

He  leadeth  me  in  whom  I  trust  alway, — 

What  though  the  path  be  thorny,  rough,  and  steep? 

If  I  may  plant  a  rose  where  thistle  grew, 

One  weary  head  may  pillow  on  my  breast, — 

Enough  to  tread  where  bleeding  feet  have  trod, 

Enough  to  know  that  all  my  soul  is  true — 

For  all  of  these,  for  mercy,  peace,  and  rest, 

Thanksgiving,  praise,  and  honor  to  our  God. 


192 


TOO   SWEET   THE   PAST. 

Too  sweet  the  past,  and  them  too  dear 
To  be  forgot;  oh,  love,  how  drear 
The  future  years  will  be,  and  when 
In  dreams  thy  lips  touch  mine  again — 
God  pity  me!  through  many  a  year 
I  '11  hunger  for  thy  touch,  and  clear 
As  chiming  bells  thy  voice  I  '11  hear; 
Oh,  I  shall  thirst — 't  is  true  hath  been 
Too  sweet  the  past. 

Out  on  life's  sea  we  learned  to  steer 
Our  boats  to  meet,  yet  now  the  spear 
Hath  entered  both  our  hearts ;  and  then 
We  may  not  hope  to  meet  again, 
Our  cup  o'erflowed — 't  is  true,  my  dear, 
Too  sweet  the  past. 


193 


NO   OTHER   LOVE. 

THOU  'RT  not  the  first  to  love  me, 
The  last  thou  may'st  not  be, 

And  yet  my  heart  is  faithful,  dear, 
No  other  love  for  me. 

0  sweet  past!  forever 
With  thee  I  shall  rove, 

And  drink  from  life's  fountains 
No  other  love. 

Thy  love  hath  been  the  sweetest 
My  soul  hath  known — ah,  me  ! 

1  would  not  give  those  days  of  bliss 
For  all  eternity. 

Belov'd  past,  thy  pleasures 

Had  wings  of  the  dove  ; 
O  sweet  past !  there  is  for  me 

No  other  love. 


194 


ANGELS'    VOICES. 

WE  'VE  heard  them  at  morning,  at  noonday, 

And  oft  in  the  still  of  the  night, 
The  silver-toned  voices  of  angels — 

And  almost  their  wings,  snowy  white, 
Have  brushed  us  in  passing,  and  ever 

We  welcome  the  heavenly  guests 
That  beckon  us  onward  and  upward, 

Where  God,  the  great  Infinite,  rests. 

Sometimes  when  the  soul  grows  a-weary, 

The  angel  of  memory  wakes 
The  heart  to  its  sweet  olden  hunger, 

And  dreams  of  despair  it  forsakes. 
Perchance  it  is  only  a  footstep 

That  fell  on  the  listening  ear, 
And  echoed  the  one  stilled  forever, 

Remembered  with  many  a  tear. 

It  may  be  when  hushed  into  slumber, 
That  loved  lips  are  pressed  close  to  thine, 


196  LYRICS  OF  THE  WEST. 

The  dream  angel  hovers  about  thee, 

And  voices  a  carol  divine. 
It  may  be  the  scent  of  a  flower, 

That  bloomed  while  the  stars  brightly  shone, 
While  hope  sang  her  sweetest — this  only, 

And  yet  it  hath  sweetness  unknown. 

And  so  all  about  us  are  angels, 

And  he  who  will  listen  may  hear 
The  voices  so  tender  and  holy 

That  wait  for  the  listening  ear. 
We  live,  and  the  forms  we  have  cherished 

Pass  onward  and  out  of  our  sight, 
But  the  voices,  sweet  voices,  remind  us 

That  over  the  way  there  's  no  night. 


THE  LEAVES  OF  THE  ROSES  OF  LOVE. 

LONG  after  the  beautiful  roses 

Have  melted  away  in  decay, 
The  leaves  grace  the  bush  in  the  garden — 

The  leaves! — and  we  welcome  their  stay. 
So  after  the  bright  dream  of  passion 

Has  faded,  its  short  life  to  prove, 
Comes  friendship  to  soften  the  sorrow — 

The  leaves  of  the  roses  of  love. 

But  love  that  is  sweetest  and  dearest, 

Fades  not  like  the  red  passion  rose, 
And  builded  on  friendship,  forever 

The  flame  in  its  strength  hotter  glows. 
The  bright  stars  ne'er  fail  us  at  twilight, 

And  ever  the  heavens  are  blue, 
The  white  rose  of  love  never  withers 

For  hearts  that  are  faithful  and  true. 


FRAGMENTS. 

How  little,  at  the  best,  we  know  our  friends; 
How  little  of  their  inmost  lives  we  know; 
We  see  the  smile,  but  do  not  guess  the  tear 
That  waits  the  precious  hour  of  solitude. 
Ah,  could  we  read  the  struggles  of  the  heart 
And  know  how  fierce  the  war  with  sin,  and  how 
We  blame  where  just  and  right  would  be  our  praise, 
Methinks  the  heart  of  man  would  be  more  kind 
To  those  who  fall.     In  pity's  garments  dressed, 
We  each  and  all  would  lend  a  helping  hand, 
The  unkind  word  forever  be  unsaid. 

Once  when  a  child,  while  roaming  o'er  the  prairie 
And  plucking  sweet  wild  flowers,  I  spied  a  plant 
All  pink  and  white,  so  beautiful  and  dainty; 
I  sought  to  break  it  from  its  stem,  but,  lo! 
I  did  but  touch  it  ere  it  drooped  and  died. 
I  find  some  natures  so — unloved  they  perish, 
They  droop,  they  fade  away  before  our  eyes; 
Some  guard  the  jewel,  others  prize  the  casket, 
And  so  the  hands  toil  on,  the  heart  may  break. 
198 


YE  MEMORIES! 

O  YE  memories !  ye  voices  of  the  past ! 
Why  do  ye  haunt  my  solitude  ?     I  pray 
Give — give  the  joys  with  which  ye  tempt  my  soul, 
Or  leave  me,  and  forevermore  be  gone! 
Sometimes  't  is  but  a  word  I  chance  to  hear, 
'T  is  only  this — a  word — ye  come!  ye  come! 
Ye  memories,  and  oh,  I  do  so  long 
For  all  ye  mock  me  with, — once  more  to  hear 
A  well-known  footstep  and  a  voice  whose  tones 
Had  power  to  wake  my  soul.     And  then,  ofttimes 
When  I  had  schooled  my  thought  e'en  to  forget, 
And  lay  me  down  to  rest  with  less  of  pain, 
In  dreams,  ye  cruel  memories,  ye  come! 
Again  I  feel  his  hot  lips  press  my  own. 
O  God!  I  can  but  creep  into  his  arms 
And  drink  with  him  the  pure  delights  of  love, 
And,  in  my  dreams  all  other  things  forgot, 
We  need  not  part  as  now  ;  I  hold  him  close, 
For  there  's  no  other  lives  who  claims  my  life, 
No  law  of  God  or  man  forbids  our  love. 
And  then  I  wake  from  dreaming:  O  my  God! 
199 


2OO  LYRICS  OF  THE    WEST. 

It  seems  I  cannot — cannot  let  thee  go! 

Gaston,  O  Gaston !  for  one  hour  as  sweet 

As  that  in  which  I  dreamed,  thy  lips  on  mine, 

My  head  upon  thy  breast,  thy  form  close  pressed, 

Had  I  a  million  lives  to  give,  that  hour 

Should  purchase  all — and  yet,  I  bade  thee  go, 

And  never,  never  shall  I  call  thee  back. 

Ye  memories,  be  gone!  ye  drive  me  mad! 

I  love  the  pain  ye  give  more  than  sweet  peace, 

And  yet,  but  to  remember — ah,  't  is  sin; 

I  hunger  to  forget.     Some  seek  to  still 

Thy  voice — 't  is  that  remembrance  brings  remorse; 

In  rioting  and  sin  some  fain  would  find 

Release  from  thee,  ye  memories,  and  some 

By  thee  are  lifted  into  purer  light, 

Where  right  forever  antidotes  the  wrong; 

Some  curse  thee,  others  cherish  thee,  and  I — 

I  love  thee  well — 't  is  sin;  I  bid  thee  go! 


MY   BABY  GIRL. 

THE  eve  before  her  wedding-day 
I  kissed  her  when  we  knelt  to  pray, 

And  wept  in  silence  by  her  side, 
It  seemed  my  heart  could  only  say 

"  To-morrow  she  will  be  a  bride/' 

My  tear-stained  face  I  sought  to  hide, 
She  was  so  happy,  bright,  and  gay, 

The  words  I  spoke  my  heart  belied. 

This  little  girl  of  mine,  ah  me, 
Who  oft  has  sat  upon  my  knee, 

And  kissed  my  lips  and  pulled  my  hair, 
Shall  soon  be  gone— oh,  can  it  be  ? 

I  looked  into  her  face  so  fair, 

So  free  from  pain  and  blight  of  care, 
Her  heart  I  knew  was  glad  and  free, 

Yet  seek  her  eyes  I  did  not  dare. 

The  years  rolled  by  and  then  I  knew 
God  blessed  her  with  a  daughter,  too; 
20 1 


2O2  LYRICS  OF   THE    WEST. 

I  held  the  wee  one  to  my  breast, 
I  kissed  her  laughing  eyes  of  blue, 

And  then  my  aching  heart  found  rest, 

So  welcome  was  the  little  guest, 
My  heart  to  her  was  wondrous  true, 

They  brought  her  to  the  old  home  nest. 

And  all  the  day  she  'd  laugh  and  sing, 
And  flit  about  like  bird  of  wing, 

This  little  granddaughter  of  mine, 
This  tiny,  precious,  pretty  thing, 

Whose  every  move  I  thought  divine; 

About  my  neck  her  arms  she  'd  twine 
Until  my  cares  I  learned  to  fling 

Away,  and  watch  her  bright  eyes  shine. 

Hush!  do  not  speak,  I  '11  tell  you  all, 
One  day  into  the  dim  old  hall 

They  bore  a  tiny  casket  white, 
And  baby  went,  beyond  recall, 

To  where  't  is  true  all  things  are  bright 

And  only  beauty  greets  the  sight, 
And  yet — and  yet  the  tear-drops  fall 

When  lone  I  lay  me  down  at  night. 


MY  BABY  GIRL.  203 

And  then— -O  God  !  't  is  hard  to  tell— 
The  mother  into  sickness  fell — 

And  soon  she,  too,  had  gone  from  me, 
It  broke  my  heart  to  say  farewell. 

Then  out  upon  death's  dismal  sea, 

With  her  loved  child  again  to  be, 
She  left  me  nothing  but  a  knell, 

A  funeral  knell  was  left  to  me. 

The  morning  light  comes  in  my  room, 
The  night  has  fled  with  all  its  gloom, 

My  God !  and  can  it  be  I  dreamed 
These  visions  which  before  me  loom  ? 

This  thing  which  all  so  real  has  seemed  ? 

She  lies  upon  my  breast;  I  deemed 
Her  grown  to  womanhood ;  the  bloom 

Comes  back  to  life — I  only  dreamed. 


A   NAME. 

'T  WAS  not  while  the  sun  shone  bright  on  high, 
And  the  roses  bloomed  'neath  a  smiling  sky, 
That  the  word  like  an  angel's  tear-drop  came 
To  give  to  the  deepest  grief  a  name, 
But  just  as  the  twilight  softly  fell, 
And  the  full-blown  rose  was  dead,  a  knell 
Was  breathed  on  the  list'ning  soul — 't  was  met 
With  a  wail  that  echoed  the  word  ' '  regret. ' ' 


204 


AS  WE   SEE   IT. 

FORTH  from  my  neighbor's  house  one  day 
The  blue  smoke  issued — and  horrified 

Myself  and  my  neighbors  all  stood  by, 

And  looked  and  looked  till  we  almost  cried, 

And  the  news  of  my  neighbor's  woe  spread  far 
O'er  the  whole  extent  of  the  countryside. 

Like  the  Pharisee  self-righteous  I, 

And  to  prove  my  sinlessness  I  told 
How  smoke  from  my  neighbor's  house  had  burst, 

And  I  added  color  with  hand  most  bold; 
Then  back  to  my  own  home  nest  I  flew, 

And  bolted  the  windows  firm  and  fast, 
Lest  smoke  from  my  home  should  issue  too, 

And  I  smiled  contented  when  all  was  past. 


205 


FORGOTTEN. 

ONLY  a  word  of  encouragement, 
It  was  looked  for  long,  but  never  sent. 
I  meant  to  have  said  it,  and  yet,  and  yet, 
Why  do  we  who  mean  to  do  well  forget  ? 
The  days  rolled  on  like  a  dreamy  sea, 
The  message  he  waited  anxiously — 
Forgotten. 

'T  was  only  a  poem,  yet  replete 
With  sentiment  tender,  pure,  and  sweet; 
My  tears  fell  fast  on  the  dainty  thing 
That  taught  my  heart  like  a  bird  to  sing, 
I  hid  it  away,  and  then  forgot 
To  write  to  my  friend  and  knew  it  not — 
Forgotten. 

I  think  that  he  waited  many  a  day, 
But  then  at  the  last  he  went  away, 
I  knew  not  whither,  and  none  else  knew; 
And  ever,  forever,  my  heart  is  true, 
While  over  the  weary  waste  of  years 
My  soul  still  echoes  amid  my  tears — 
Forgotten. 

206 


THEY   TELL   ME   THOU   ART   GROWING 
OLD. 

THEY  tell  me  thou  art  growing  old, 
To  say  so  much  is  over  bold, 
And  yet  perchance,  it  may  be  true 
To  they  who  know  thee  not — they  who 
Would  measure  life  by  hair  grown  white, 
Or  by  the  dimness  of  the  sight. 

What !  is  the  heart  less  young  to-day, 
Because  the  years  have  sped  away, 
And  left  thee,  in  the  place  of  youth, 
God's  benediction  ?    Ah,  forsooth, 
Thy  heart  a  book  of  wisdom  is, 
Thy  past  and  future  both  are  His. 

Come !  fold  me  to  thy  manly  breast, 
There  only  would  I  seek  my  rest, 
Breathe  on  my  lips  thy  pure  sweet  breath, 
For  mine  thou  art  until  in  death 
We  part  for  just  a  little  while, 
One  going  first  beneath  God's  smile. 
207 


208  LYRICS  OF   THE    WEST. 

For,  dear  one,  some  would  have  it  so — 
Thou  art  too  old  for  me — no,  no ! 
The  fires  that  in  thy  bosom  burn 
Have  kindled  all  my  soul — I  turn 
From  loneliness  to  thee — oh,  bind 
To  thine  my  heart  and  soul  and  mind. 

And  while  the  ages  onward  roll, 
Hide  thou  rich  treasure  in  my  soul, 
But  look  into  my  eyes  to  say: 
"  My  heart  loves  on  from  day  to  day." 
What  shall  I  care,  as  years  unfold, 
They  tell  me  thou  art  growing  old  ? 


ALONE. 

JUST  as  the  sun  went  down  in  the  west 
One  beautiful  summer  day, 

I  sat  in  the  open  door  to  rest 
And  dream,  as  a  dreamer  may. 

And  I  said  in  my  heart,  I  'm  all  alone, 

I  will  call  up  visions  fair. 
O  fate !  what  a  sad  mistake,  for  I 

Was  alone,  and  grief  was  there. 


209 


MY  LITTLE   DAUGHTER. 

GOD  gave  to  me  a  jewel  wondrous  rare, 

A  priceless  gem,  and  bade  me  guard  with  care, 

A  baby  girl,  a  tiny  heart  and  soul, 

To  lead  as  best  I  could  home  to  the  goal. 

And  I  have  asked  my  soul:  "  Soul,  which  is  best 
For  this,  my  child,  to  enter  with  the  rest 
The  strife  for  worldly  honors,  glory,  fame, 
Or  be  content  to  bear  an  humble  name  ?  " 

I  know  not,  but  to  guide  her  is  my  task; 
O  Father,  lead  the  way,  I  do  but  ask 
That  she  unto  the  world  a  blessing  prove, 
That  I  may  guide  aright  to  know  Thy  love. 

And  if  the  way  for  her  be  dark,  my  plea: 
Oh,  grant  that  she  may  ever  lean  on  Thee, 
That  she  may  ne'er  in  darkness  lose  her  way, 
Help  me,  O  Father,  teach  her  how  to  pray. 


WHO? 

WHO  was  it  through  that  summer  time, 

That  summer  ne'er  forgot  to  be, 
Who  taught  me  love  thro*  golden  hours, 

And  filled  my  cup  with  joy  ?     'T  was  he 
Who  colored  all  my  thoughts  to  please 

His  own  sweet  fancies  as  he  would, 
And  while  the  days  went  sailing  by, 

To  me  to  live  was  good. 

For  hope  was  kindled  into  flame, 

Oh,  love  was  as  a  fire 
That  glowed,  but  never  could  consume 

The  sweetness  of  desire. 
Somebody  sent  his  spirit  then 

To  bless  and  make  me  glad, 
And  I,  enraptured,  could  but  yearn 

Till  yearning  drove  me  mad. 

Where'er  I  went  this  spirit  form 
Was  with  me  night  and  day, 
211 


212  LYRICS  OF   THE    WEST. 

He  kissed  me  in  my  dreams,  and  then 

He  knelt  with  me  to  pray. 
While  others  heard  the  great  church  choir, 

I  only  heard  his  voice, 
And  in  the  hope  of  meeting  him, 

I  learned  to  live,  rejoice. 

And  then  at  last — at  last — we  met, 

My  God!  and  could  I  tell 
The  raptures  of  those  golden  hours, 

Methinks  't  would  break  the  spell 
That  binds  me  to  the  past — but  wait ! 

You  dare  not  ask  me  who 
That  idol  of  my  heart  was  ;  well, 

We  're  friends  to-day — 't  was  you! 


REVENGED! 

IF,  in  the  midst  of  pleasure, 

Granted  one's  whole  desire, 
Counting  one's  wealth  of  treasure, 

Letting  one's  hopes  aspire 
E'en  to  the  heights  of  glory, 

If  in  the  arms  of  bliss 
Pain  mingles  with  the  story, 

Grief  in  the  sweetest  kiss; 

If,  in  the  past  remembered, 

Lingers  one  great  regret, 
Pain  that  for  years  hath  slumbered, 

Tears  one  would  hide,  as  yet; 
If,  at  the  hour  of  midnight 

Cometh  remorse — O  God, 
Better  to  veil  the  sunlight, 

Better  to  kiss  the  rod. 

Look  on  that  form  of  beauty 
Asleep  in  the  husband's  arms, 
213 


214  LYRICS  OF   THE    WEST. 

Love  is  the  work  of  duty — 
What  can  it  be  alarms, 

Wakens  her  from  her  dreaming, 
Makes  her  to  start  in  pain  ? 

Ah,  it  was  but  in  seeming, 
For  see,  she  smiles  again. 

But  when  her  eyelids  drooping, 

Lull  her  again  to  rest, 
One  o'er  her  couch  is  stooping, 

Kissing  her  lips,  her  breast; 
Weeping  great  tears  of  sorrow, 

Calling  her  back  to  him, 
She  from  the  past  would  borrow 

Happiness,  love,  and  Jim. 

Yet  in  our  dreams  awaken 

Memories  crushed  to  death, 
Loves  that  have  been  forsaken, 

Scorch  us  with  burning  breath. 
So  in  the  midnight  darkness, 

Back  in  the  past  she  lives, 
Memory  robbed  of  sweetness, 

Never  the  thief  forgives. 


REVENGED!  21$ 

Seems  now  some  anguished  spirit, 

Hovering  near  in  air, 
Speaks,  and  she  waits  to  hear  it, 

Ah,  it  is  hushed  in  prayer, 
While  in  the  tones  of  pleading 

Echoes  her  lover's  voice, 
Upward  to  God  't  is  leading; 

Fair  sleeping  bride,  thy  choice 

Opened  the  deeps  of  anguish 

For  one  who  was  faithful,  true, 
Leave  him  for  aye  to  languish, 

What  can  it  be  to  you  ? 
Fair  as  the  dawn  of  morning, 

False  as  the  vows  you  take, 
Shame  shall  be  thine  adorning, 

Hearts  have  been  thine  to  break. 

"  Morning  hath  dawned,  O  fair  one, 

Open  thy  bright  blue  eyes. 
What !  not  a  kiss,  my  dear  one  ? 

No  wife  this  gift  denies. " 
And  while  her  lips  he  presses, 

Under  her  artful  smile, 
Read  what  her  heart  confesses — 

Thou  art  revenged  the  while! 


CROWNED. 

CROWNED  with  a  wreath  of  roses, 

Crowned  on  my  bridal  day, 
Is  there  a  soul  supposes 

Roses  will  ne'er  decay  ? 
Ah,  but  the  sun  shines  brightly, 

Youth  is  the  time  to  sing, 
And  while  the  roses  wither, 

Zephyrs  are  on  the  wing. 

Crowned  as  the  years  go  onward, 

Crowned,  and  with  motherhood, 
Oft  in  the  dark  night's  stillness, 

Merged  into  prayerful  mood: 
"  Father,"  I  plead,  "  oh,  make  me 

Worthy  to  wear  this  crown, 
Dearer  than  all  earth's  treasure, 

And  than  the  world's  renown." 

Crowned,  but  the  roses  withered, 

Leaving  the  thorns  all  bare; 

216 


CROWNED.  217 

Oh,  wilt  Thou  not,  dear  Father, 
Help  me  this  crown  to  wear  ? 

One  in  the  world  is  tempted, 
Dear  to  my  mother's  heart, 

Oh,  that  his  steps  ne'er  falter, 
Help  me  to  do  my  part. 

One — 't  was  my  only  daughter, — 

Sank  in  the  arms  of  death 
Just  as  a  tiny  wee  one 

Gaspingly  caught  its  breath; 
And  as  I  kissed  her  forehead, 

White  as  the  drifted  snow, 
I  lifted  her  crown  of  roses, 

Glad  that  she  could  not  know 


That  after  the  sunlit  morning, 

There  cometh  the  dews  of  night, 
And  after  the  roses  wither, 

Tear-drops  will  blind  the  sight. 
And  yet,  by  the  low  mound  sitting, 

The  thorns  do  so  pierce  my  brow, 
Almost  I  would  yield  my  guerdon, 

To  not  be  a  mother  now. 


218  LYRICS  OF   THE    WEST. 

'T  is  past,  and  again  I  'm  smiling, 

'T  is  best  that  a  crown  of  thorns, 
All  bathed  in  a  mother's  anguish, 

My  own  aching  brow  adorns. 
For  out  of  the  deeps  of  sorrow 

Comes  healing  for  others'  woe, 
Then  soul,  like  the  Master,  suffer, 

Like  Him,  thou  shalt  victory  know. 


DELIGHT. 

I  SAID,  I  will  search,  I  will  seek  till  I  find 

That  fairy  bewitching  and  bright, 
That  dazzles  the  eye  and  entrances  the  mind, 

That  gorgeous  elf  men  call  Delight. 

I  sought  her  in  summer  mid  sunshine  and  bloom 
I  sought  her  in  winter's  soft  snows, 

She  ever  evaded  me,  left  me  in  gloom, 
Where  is  she  ?     Methinks  no  one  knows. 


I  thought  I  had  found  her  when  love  left  his  kiss 
On  hot  burning  lips — oh  !  the  might 

Of  feeling  that  trembled  and  thrilled  at  the  bliss 
Of  this,  the  first  touch  of  Delight. 

But  quickly  she  vanished,  I  sat  down  to  weep, 

The  phantom  I  followed  had  fled, 
And  there  in  the  twilight  I  fell  into  sleep, 

And  these  were  the  dreams  of  my  head: 
219 


220  LYRICS  OF   THE    WEST. 

\  saw  the  great  world  seeking  her  whom  I  sought, 
And  men  laid  their  wealth  at  her  feet, 

And    all    were    bewildered,    great   treasure    they 

brought, 
And  heaped  up  her  storehouse  as  meet. 

Fair  women  laid  beauty  adown  in  the  dust 

Of  sin,  degradation,  and  shame, 
Believing  for  this  that  Delight  would  and  must 

Write  on  them  her  beautiful  name. 

But  ever  I  saw,  let  them  try  as  they  would, 
They  ne'er  touched  the  hem  of  her  gown, 

For  ever  and  always  she  fled  in  such  mood 
That  none  ever  won  the  bright  crown. 

And  then  in  my  dreaming  a  vision  I  saw, 
Methinks  't  was  no  dream  of  the  night, 

For  there  was  the  spirit  and  word  of  the  law, 
And  there  was  the  throne  great  and  white. 

'T  was  set  in  the  midst  of  the  homes  of  the  earth, 

And  not  in  the  far-away  skies, 
And  Jesus,  the  Master,  regarded  the  worth 

Of  things  that  the  world  doth  despise. 


DELIGHT.  221 

I  heard  a  great  groaning,  men  heartsick  from  sin, 

And  women  and  children  in  pain, 
I  saw  a  great  conflict  about  to  begin, 

Where  effort  and  struggle  seemed  vain. 

And  then  like  the  angels  of  God  forth  there  came, 
Fair  women  who  knelt  down  to  pray 

Beside  some  poor  lost  one  and  teach  him  the  name 
Of  Christ,  the  Light,  Truth,  and  the  Way. 

They  moistened  the  lips  of  the  dying  with  tears, 

They  hushed  every  story  of  ill  ; 
In  all  that  broad  land  sin  died  out  with  its  fears, 

For  tongues  that  spoke  evil  grew  still. 

These  angels  of  mercy  appeared  at  the  throne, 
Were  crowned  and  were  robed  in  pure  white, 

And  given  a  gem — 't  is  the  rarest  that  *s  known, 
A  talisman  true  of  delight. 

I  waked  from  my  dreaming,  the  vision  is  past, 
And  now  I  have  found  the  true  way  ; 

Delight  to  her  castle  invites  me  at  last, 
Oh,  teach  me,  fair  angel,  to  pray. 


FALSELY  ACCUSED ! 

ACCUSED  !  and  at  the  accusation,  shame 
Hath  clothed  a  life  and  cursed  an  honest  name; 
A  soul  that  leaned  on  God  it  hath  abused, 
A  soul  that  was  to  sin's  foul  ways  unused; 
And  God  hath  looked  upon  that  aching  heart, 
And  numbered  all  the  actors  in  the  part — 
Falsely  accused! 


The  play  is  on — for  life  is,  at  the  best, 
A  drama — in  which  good  and  ill  attest; 
On  comedy  the  curtain  oft  doth  rise, 
More  often  it  is  tragedy  that  lies 
Behind  the  scenes — all  do  not  read  aright, 
And  lives  are  blighted  that  are  in  God's  sight 
Falsely  accused! 

The  struggle,  how  severe,  'twixt  right  and  wrong! 
The  night  of  trial,  oh,  how  fierce  and  long! 
Almost  the  floating  banner  did  go  down, 

222 


FALSELY  ACCUSED.  22$ 

And  yet,  and  yet,  remembering  the  crown 
"  To  him  that  overcometh,"  grace  was  sought 
And  honor  saved.     O  soul,  I  pray,  faint  not — 
Falsely  accused! 

Not  guilty!  so  the  record  reads  above; 
Not  guilty!  that  great  judgment  day  shall  prove; 
Then  wait  in  patience  while  the  years  go  by, 
And  pray  for  them  who  pierce  thee  thro' — aye, 

aye, 

Enough  to  know  that  God  thy  cause  will  plead, 
And  write  upon  thy  brow  that  all  may  read — 
Falsely  accused! 


CONSCIENCE. 

CONSCIENCE,  what  art  thou  ? 
A  tyrant  thou  to  torture  if  I  stray, 
A  demon  of  the  night!  and  if  I  pray, 
A  spirit  hov'ring  o'er  my  anguished  soul, 
That  bids  me  drink  the  dregs  from  out  the  bowl. 
I  sink  beneath  thy  lash,  and  yet,  O  God, 
My  quivering  lips  would  kiss  Thy  scourging  rod. 

Conscience,  thou  art 

An  angel  sent  to  guide  me  thro'  the  dark, 
Ofttimes  I  'd  lose  my  way  in  sin,  but  hark! 
Thy  voice  is  heard  to  speak,  and  then  I  know 
The  Father  loves  me  yet — Oh,  soft  and  low 
As  twilight  echoes  are  I  hear  thy  voice, 
And  ever  at  thy  coming  I  rejoice. 


224 


NIGHT  AND  DAY. 

THE  dusky  night,  the  golden  day, 
The  dearer  which  I  know  not — yea, 
Methinks  the  star-lit  skies  of  blue, 
While  earth  is  bathed  with  falling  dew, 
The  dearer  is,  yet  with  delight, 
The  daylight  chases  dusky  night. 

The  while  't  is  day  in  every  clime, 
I  seek  and  know  the  joys  of  time, 
When  night  lulls  me  to  sleep,  ah,  me  ! 
I  dwell  within  eternity; 
My  waking  dreams  are  what  I  would, 
I  sleep — God  giveth  what  is  good. 

The  day  for  toil  and  strife  at  best, 

The  night  for  prayer  and  peace  and  rest, 

Of  all  the  joys  I  've  known,  it  seems, 

The  sweetest  came  to  me  in  dreams. 

And  so  I  am  rejoiced  alway 

That  night  must  follow  golden  day. 


225 


*C1S9033 


VERSITY  OF  CALIFORN 
BERKELEY 

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25Feb52ll' 


